


Tilling Soil

by Aviantei



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Amaimon is a demon and that makes things complicated, I tried to write straight comedy and drama worked its way in, Mephisto enjoys himself way too much, More fluffy than anticipated, Multi, Rin sticks his nose into things that are none of his business, Romance, Shima doesn't help, ocxcanon, post Kyoto Arc, several OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: There are some things that just need a little cultivation, like plants, or relationships. And then there are the things that require full-out persistence and the highest possible maintenance. Like plants. And relationships. This...somehow ended up being the latter. In which a human falls for Amaimon, the Earth King is bored, and Mephisto's daughter has to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally published on fanfiction.net on February 24, 2014. Oddly enough, it was also my second idea for an AoEx fic, the first that I would start writing a bit later. There are some crossover aspects between the two, but the idea was to make each its own independent story. We'll see how that works out later.
> 
> Of course, the other point was to delve into my love for Amaimon and make a semi-comedic romance drama that's seemingly determined to drag me in unexpected directions. It's still a work in progress, but I'm considering working on wrapping it up next year.
> 
> For now, I hope you enjoy!

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter One

* * *

It was the first lunch break after summer vacation at True Cross Academy, and the courtyard was filled with students trying to pretend that in less than an hour they wouldn’t have to go back to their classrooms. There were groups eating lunch, taking naps under trees, a game of Frisbee in action, and even the one student here and there scribbling away at their summer homework that has becoming closer to being overdue by the minute. The heat seemed to bother no one, a reminder of whatever adventures they had gone on while free from school.

Fukui Ayane, free of all other worries, was sitting in the shade of a tree to eat her lunch. Unlike other kids who took the opportunity of living on their own away from their parents to eat whatever they wanted, Ayane’s own lunch seemed relatively healthy, at least in comparison to her friends’ own food choices.

“So, how was everyone’s summer?” Michiko asked, getting the customary question out of the way. She then giggled alongside Yori, whereas Ryouichi just seemed uncomfortable. Ayane only opened up her bottle of water and took a drink as a response. “Okay, fine, I’ll start! So the first guy I dated was this total hottie but when he—”

“No one wants to hear about your many failed relationships, Michiko-chan,” Ayane said, cutting off the rambling before it could even begin. The rest of the group sighed in relief, and Michiko pouted. Ayane took another drink from her water bottle then smirked. “Now, if you actually stuck with a guy longer than a few days, _that’s_ impressive. I think we’d all be interested in hearing a tale about how you resisted the urge to dump the guy for so long.”

Michiko paused, needing to count up the days that had transpired over the summer. “Okay, so I didn’t date any guy longer than three days,” she said, confirming everyone’s suspicions. She held up a finger dramatically, sending her dark brown hair flying over her shoulders. “But! That just means none of them were right for me! It’s perfectly acceptable! There’s no reason to treat me like a criminal for such a thing, Ayane-chan!”

Ayane only raised an eyebrow. Such outbursts were normal. “Only three days huh?”

“Yes, and if you would just let me—”

“No way, three days is boring. It’s the same story every damn time, and I’m not a fan of repeats. Right, Yori-chan?”

Yori jumped a bit, gave an apologetic look towards Michiko, then nodded. Michiko gave a feigned look of being appalled, but smiled reassuringly a moment later. “Sorry, Michiko-san, but it’s true…”

“See?” Ayane said, taking another bite out of her lunch. Her next words were muffled by the food that was still in her mouth. “No one wants to hear it, so keep your exploits to yourself.” Not even giving Michiko time to retort, Ayane continued, “So what did you get up to Yori-chan?”

“Nothing too exciting, but I did get someone to agree to do the illustrations for my novel for me,” Yori said, slightly blushing. Ayane smiled and nodded. Yori was trying to break out as a light novelist, but wanted control over the character designs that would go with it. Since she couldn’t draw herself, she had been searching for an artist online to collaborate with.

Ryouichi lit up instantly at this fact, staring down Yori was bright eyes. “That’s awesome!” he exclaimed. “Who is it? How are they willing to work with you? When do you think they’ll have the sketches finished? I can’t wait to see them!”

Yori blushed slightly, not used to being the center of attention. She had improved over the past few years at least. When Ayane met her in their second year of middle school she would cry while giving her class introduction just because everyone was watching her. Class presentations were a nightmare.

“Um, I’m sorry, Shirou-kun, I can’t remember their username right now,” Yori said. “But they do professional commissions and their art is really popular. They said they were really busy lately, but if I was willing to wait for them to read over my drafts they’d be willing to do the designs and insert pages for free. I tried to negotiate price but they insisted so I had to say yes…”

“That just means they really like your work!” Ryouichi was positively beaming at the idea. “If they’re a popular artist that just means that they can promote you and help attract readers. You’re really lucky that they chose you. It’s a great opportunity! Can you send me the link to their work sometime?”

Yori nodded, clutching her melon bread in her hands. “Sure thing.” She looked at the rest of the group, trying to think of something to say. “Um, I didn’t really do much else over the summer other than write. What about you, Shirou-kun?”

“Same old, same old,” the boy drawled. He leaned back, propping himself up on his hands. “I watched and read all the series I was behind on and went and checked out the start of the summer anime season. I went to Comiket, too, which was really exciting this year. I got to talk to a lot of my favorite artists there.” Ryouichi grinned. “So what about you, Ayane?”

With everyone’s eyes on her again, Ayane sighed. “I practiced for the tennis team and rested up on the days in between,” she said. “The coach is brutal, since he says summer is the best time for as to get as much training in as possible. Once we got started I was hardly able to move on my days off.” Ryouichi grimaced at the idea, and Ayane laughed. “I have to admit, it works, though. I built up a lot more muscle thanks to it.”

Michiko rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I’m sure you needed it,” she said, sarcasm rolling into her voice. The girl twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “It’s not as if you’re the star of the team anyway and won the nationals last year. Couldn’t you at least have taken one of those days off and spent it with me? I had some good double dates set up, and it’s not like I can take Yori-chan on those with me. No offense, dear.”

Yori’s face was dyed a bright red as she shook her head back and forth. “None taken,” she muttered. “I’m not interested in those sorts of things anyway.”

Ayane scoffed. “Like Yori-chan should even get close to the type of guys you like,” she commented, earning herself a glare from Michiko. “Besides, I’m done with being your experimental test dummy to help you get through your dates faster by deciding which guy you like or not. It’s disgusting watching you make bedroom guys at two guys at the same table, especially when one of them is supposed to be my ‘date’.” She accentuated the end of the sentence with air quotes, and Ryouichi snickered.

“It’s _efficient_,” Michiko stressed. She folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “Besides, I do genuinely try to find guys you’d be interested in. Just because you’re a busy athlete doesn’t mean you can’t find love. Why just the other day I found the cutest—you know what, _here_.” Michiko dug into her phone and started to try and find a picture.

“Not interested,” Ayane deadpanned, intentionally looking the other direction. Michiko seemed appalled.

“Don’t say that before you even _see_ him.” She proceeded to try and show an image on her screen to Ayane, who closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Heavens, darling, if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even think about boys. Come on, just _look_—”

“Maybe Ayane-san already has someone she likes,” Yori suggested. Michiko’s jaw dropped, and Ryouichi looked as if he was in a contest to see whose eyebrows could retreat farthest into their hairline. Ayane’s eyes snapped open in an instant.

Once she had recovered from the initial shock, Michiko seemed ecstatic. “Oh, darling, I should have known!” she exclaimed. You would have thought she had just been proposed to, she was so excited. “This is explains _everything_! So, who is he? Are you dating? When did you meet? Did he confess or you? What—?”

“There isn’t anyone,” Ayane said, trying to scoot out of Michiko’s arm reach. Persistently, Michiko followed. Despite her denial, Ayane’s face was slowly turning a bright red. Michiko grinned, somehow turning out like a predator. “Come on, don’t look at me like that!”

Ryouichi frowned, looking disappointed. “How come you didn’t tell me about this?” he asked, sounding hurt. “I thought we were best friends. Aren’t we supposed to tell each other everything, even the embarrassing stuff? Hell, I even told you about my last crushes and exactly how I was rejected. It’s not fair.”

“I—”

“Fukui Ayane, I swear to whatever holy deity takes influence in these situations that if you do not tell me about this boy that I will personally spread the rumor about your crush throughout the school. No one will ever let you down for it until you say who it is, either,” Michiko threatened. She paused for a moment, almost looking thoughtful. “Although if it’s a girl, I guess that would make a lot of sense. In which case I support you, but I still want to know every last detail.”

“It’s not a girl!” Ayane shouted, turning several heads in their direction. She was fortunately too flustered to even notice this fact. Yori held a hand up to her mouth but didn’t say anything.

Ryouichi snickered. “Michiko-san, Ayane doesn’t swing that way,” he commented. If anything, Yori blushed more than Ayane, staring down at the empty bento in her lap. “Though I must commend you on the strategy that would make her admit there’s even someone in the first place.” He looked at Ayane and grinned. “Come on, tell.”

Michiko leaned in on one side, and Ryouichi covered the other. Even Yori looked up at her with expectant eyes, peaking up from her lunchbox. Feeling cornered, Ayane heaved a disgusted sigh. “Fine, I’ll talk,” she grumbled. “But only if you let me finish before you start babbling nonsense, alright?”

Ryouichi called out an excited “Yes!” and shared a high five with Michiko. The two then looked at Ayane with perfect poker faces and nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, Ayane was almost certain that she saw Yori scoot a bit closer to the awkward huddle that was happening.

“Let’s get this straight, no one’s confessed to anyone, okay?” she said. Michiko looked a bit disappointed. Ayane ignored it. “Basically, before summer break I ended up practicing later than usual. When I was heading back to the dorm there was this punk-looking kid with the Headmaster. It looked like he was being shown around the school, so I thought he might be a new student…” Ugh, it was embarrassing to even think about, let alone admit out loud.

“Maybe he’s going to transfer in soon,” Yori suggested. “It would be rather pointless to transfer in at the end of the semester, don’t you think?”

Apparently, Michiko didn’t think this was a suitable option. “Oh, it’s so tragic!” she exclaimed, pretending to swoon. Or maybe it was serious, one could never be sure. “A love destroyed before it could even begin! Ayane-chan, I’m so sorry that I made you bring up something so terrible; you must be heartbroken!”

Ayane didn’t feel like justifying that with a response, so she responded to Yori instead. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, but I haven’t seen him at all,” she said. “Anyone like that would stick out so I thought that it would be easy…”

“Then maybe he’s a middle school student and intends to attend here next year?” Yori tried. “Although I don’t know how many people would be important enough to be shown around by the Headmaster for something like that… Although in that case he probably has special circumstances…” She frowned, fidgeting with her chopsticks. Ayane remembered that saying that much was probably a big hurtle for her and let it go, sighing as she leaned back.

Michiko gasped. “Oh, an age gap, how scandalous!” she shouted. “Although two years really isn’t that bad, but it will make graduating so much more painful!” She fell backward onto the grass, her skirt almost riding up. “Although, I must say, Ayane-chan, I never thought you would be the type to go fall in love at first sight. Oh, it’s just perfect! I’m so jealous!”

“It’s not like it’s love, I just thought he was cute and looked interesting to talk to…” Ayane muttered. For some reason her cheeks still felt warm. “If he’s not going to school here, there’s no point. And it’s not like I can ask the Headmaster about some random kid, either… It’s better if I just give up being honest.”

“Some punk kid, huh?” Ryouichi commented, smirking. “Not what I thought you’d go for in the end, but I guess I can see it. Way to go and defy stereotypes, Miss Sports Star, you’ve done well.”

“Oh shut it!”

Ryouichi laughed. Ayane crossed her arms and turned away, not caring if she was pouting. “Oh, come on, I was just teasing. Besides, even if you can’t talk to the Headmaster, it’s not like you can’t talk to his daughter and see if she knows anything.”

“The Headmaster’s… daughter?” Yori asked, tilting her head. The other girls seemed to share her confusion, all eyes locking onto the only male in the group. “I didn’t know that the Headmaster was married to anyone…”

Ryouichi shrugged. “I don’t know all the details, but I do know her at least. Margeret Faust-san, she sits next to me in class. She’s really smart so she just ends up drawing in her notes all the time. We’ve talked about art and stuff before. It seems like she has a good relationship with her father, so you could probably ask and see if you could find out anything about this mystery boy of yours.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about her for only having talked a few times,” Michiko commented. She smirked, the same light of excitement floating in her eyes as when she had cornered Ayane. “Don’t tell me that someone’s got a crush, Ryou-kun~. Two of my friends falling in love at once! Oh, this is perfect!”

“Ugh, you little liar!” Ayane exclaimed, crushing her now empty bottle of water. She turned on Ryouichi, who winced. “What was all that bullshit about ‘I’ve told you about all the girls I’ve had crushes on’? You guilt-tripping little weasel!”

“Come on, Ayane, I was getting to it,” Ryouichi tried. He put his hands together in prayer in front of his chest. “You can’t blame me, you’ve been busy with tennis practice and—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!”

Yori coughed, the small sound enough to get everyone’s attention. “If you actually want to talk to her, you should do it soon, Fukui-san,” she said. She pointed to the clock tower visible over the other buildings. “There’s not much time left in our lunch break and I know you have practice tonight. Isn’t it better to do this sooner than later?”

Ayane frowned, dropping her arms to her side. While she had been seconds away from throttling Ryouichi, she supposed that it would have to wait. She glared at her best friend, swearing that she would get revenge on him later.

“Take me to her.”

* * *

When Ayane was dragged halfway across the courtyard and pointed into the direction of a trio of students not unlike her friends, she wondered just what Ryouichi was thinking. She was just about to ask which of the two girls Margeret was—since neither of them looked like how Ayane had imagined—when Ryouichi spoke up.

“That’s her,” he whispered, even though they were a suitable distance away. None of the group had even looked up, too involved in their own conversation to even notice the pair that was watching them. Ryouichi must have been really nervous to be so secretive. “Margeret-san’s the one with the blue hair.”

“Ah,” Ayane said in a one syllable response. Looking closer, she realized that the one she had thought was the male in the group was actually a girl. It was a pain, but it was possible to see her curves under the male uniform if you were looking for them. Leave it to Ryouichi to fall for someone like that.

“If you want I can introduce you to her.” Ryouichi’s cheeks were dusted a light pink. “I’m sure that if you say you know me she’ll open right up. Though it might be a little awkward if you just open up the conversation by trying to get school information out of her…”

Ayane waved Ryouichi off, not concerned in the slightest. “Nah, I got this,” she said. Ryouichi seemed to deflate at bit, but she didn’t have time to worry about that sort of stuff. If time was of the essence, so be it. “I’ll meet up with you after practice, okay?”

“Alright…” Ryouichi said. He cast a look over his shoulder in Margeret’s direction before heading back to where they had left Michiko and Yori. The poor girl was probably being assaulted by stories of Michiko’s dating adventures and needed to be saved. “See you later, Ayane.”

“Later, Ryou.”

Ayane stared down her target, preparing herself. Even if it was for an embarrassing reason, there was no reason to be intimidated by the prospect of talking to a group of underclassmen. Ayane took a deep breath and took a step forward before she could turn back. “Excuse me,” she called, “could I speak to Faust-san for a moment?”

The two other girls looked to Margeret, confused looks on their faces. The girl in question smiled and stood up, dusting grass off her uniform. “Sure, why not,” she said, acting way too natural for Ayane’s tastes. It was almost unnerving. “I suppose I could spare a little bit of my lunch break to talk to Fukui Ayane-senpai.”

“Oh, it’s Fukui-senpai!” the girl with brown hair and pig tails said, looking excited. “You helped our tennis team win the nationals last year, didn’t you? That’s really impressive for a first-year member! Since you already know Whiskey, I’ll just introduce myself! I’m Haruhana Mocha, and this is Ruma Izona!”

The other girl, Ruma, shook her head. Her orange ponytail swayed with the motion. “How do you even have time to learn about stuff like that?” she muttered. “I’m so busy I can hardly think straight.”

“Well, last year we weren’t in the Cram School, so it was a lot easier to go to stuff like that, you know? Fukui-senpai is really amazing. I don’t know much about tennis, but she really is.” Mocha nodded, as it that settled everything. Ruma rolled her eyes.

“What fucking school year were you living?”

“Um, thanks a lot,” Ayane said. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t pull off the “aloof and super cool athlete” vibe. “Thanks for your support. I hope you’ll come see us again this year. But who exactly is Whiskey, ‘cause I don’t….”

Margeret coughed. When Ayane looked at her, her face was red. “That would be a stupid nickname I have. Please don’t get the wrong idea, Senpai,” she said. “But you said you wanted to talk, so let’s not waste any more time on talking about unnecessary things.” She shot a look at Mocha, who pouted.

“That’s right!” Ayane exclaimed, realizing that she had forgotten her goal whenever the others had started talking. “This is really important! Super important!”

“So tell me—”

“No, it has to be in private!”

Margeret shifted, an uncomfortable look on her face. “I’m sorry, Senpai, but I’m sure if it’s something unbelievable, there’s no one more qualified to help you out with the problem than all three of us. So if you would just—”

“Private!”

Ayane latched a hand onto Margeret’s arm. The underclassman looked to her friends for help, but they both only gave her helpless smiles. Ayane smirked as Margeret sighed. “Alright, Senpai, we can talk somewhere else if it’s that important,” the younger girl said. “Wherever you’d like to go, lead the way.”

“Perfect,” Ayane said. Not letting go, she proceeded to drag Margeret across the courtyard toward the now empty classrooms.

“Good luck!” Mocha called out to her friend. Ruma’s laughter was loud enough to follow them as they walked.

* * *

“Alright, Senpai, what can I help you with?” Margeret asked once they finally had arrived at a place that Ayane felt was safe. While asking about a student wasn’t really a private matter, the older girl still didn’t feel like explaining herself where others could easily hear her. Preparing herself, she took another deep breath.

“I wanted to ask about a new student that will be coming here,” Ayane said. Her cheeks were already starting to turn red. _Get it together!_ “Or, at least, I think they’ll be coming here. It’s just that you’re the Headmaster’s daughter so you might know something about them, or maybe could ask for me?” She looked to her underclassman with pleading eyes.

Margeret raised an eyebrow. “You know I can’t tell you much, right? I mean, I do know a lot about transfers and such because Vati talks to me about this kind of stuff, but it’s not like I can tell you their life story. Not only do I not know it, it’s kind of against the rules to give out stuff like that.”

“I just want his name.” Ayane felt her mouth start to go dry at the words. She was too eager, right? She shouldn’t be speaking so fast over something like this. “Just his name, Faust-san, if you can give it to me. That’s all.”

Margeret sighed, furrowing her brow in concentration. In the end, she sighed, her reluctance breaking down. Ayane’s heart sped up just at the possibility. “Alright, just tell me what you know about him and I’ll see what I can do.”

Ayane nodded, pulling the memory back up from a little more than a month ago. It should have been blurry, but she had worked hard to keep his image sharp in her mind. “Okay, so he’s a bit shorter than the average guy, all his clothes were mismatched and kind of torn up, he has green hair that sticks up like this—” she used her hands to imitate the tongari shape “—and he was eating some kind of snack.” Ayane dropped her arms and shrugged. “I know that doesn’t really matter, but still. Is that enough, Faust-san?”

Ayane felt proud of herself for being able to remember so much. On the other hand, Margeret had buried her face in her hands, though Ayane couldn’t imagine why. “Senpai,” she said, her voice muffled, “why exactly do you know want to know about this person?” She looked up from her hands, green eyes almost desperate.

“Um, well…” Ayane poked her fingers together. There was no stopping the rush of color on her face now. “To be honest, I kind of like him, so I was hoping that I could see him again and get to know him better.”

Margeret groaned, her face heading straight back into her hands. She was talking more to herself, but Ayane could still hear her. “You gotta be kidding me…” she muttered. “She wants to meet Uncle Amaimon because she has a _crush on him_?”

Ayane perked up, invading her kohai’s one-sided conversation. “Did you say uncle?” she asked. Margeret looked up, embarrassed that she had been overheard. “He looks like he’s about our age. Did one of your grandparents remarry or something?”

The younger girl was sent into a flurry of coughs, as if the idea was enough to choke on. When she calmed down, Margeret looked as if she needed to go lie down in the nurse’s office. However, since she had finally caught onto a lead, Ayane wasn’t about to let her chance slip away.

“Let’s just say our family situation is… complicated,” Margeret supplied. Ayane by passed the comment in favor of pressing forward.

“If he’s your uncle and he visits your father, that means that you maintain contact with him, right? At least a good enough relationship where you can invite him over without it being too much of a hassle right?” Ayane took a step forward.

Margeret took a step back. “Um, well, you see…”

“In that case you should be able to at least try and get him to meet up with me once. It doesn’t even have to be a date. It can be a get-together or something. You have the money for that, Faust-san, so a small party should be nothing.”

“No, Senpai, I really can’t do that. Uncle lives out of town and was only visiting, so—”

Ayane crossed her arms, unsatisfied with the reasoning. “So then just let me know when he comes back. I’d even bring a housewarming gift. It could look like an accident, I don’t care. I really just want to meet him. Is that so hard to ask for?”

Margeret looked like she was about to say several things at once, but she ultimately gave up in favor of letting out a small growl of frustration. Ayane knew she was being unreasonable, but she was stubborn. Being stubborn was what had got her into True Cross Academy, what had made her push forward to win the nationals with the rest of her tennis team. Surely it could be used to meet the guy she was almost certain that she liked.

Once she was done venting her frustrations, Margeret took a deep breath. Her face hardened, and despite being a high school first year, she looked a lot older than that. “I’m sorry, Fukui-senpai, but I really can’t introduce you to my uncle,” she said. “Even if I did, the situation wouldn’t end up the way you’re thinking.”

Ayane adjusted her stance so that her hands were resting on her hips. “So are you telling me that he’s already in a relationship?” she said. If the direct approach wasn’t working, she would have to go from a different angle. “You really should have just said that from the start, Faust-san.”

Margeret seemed to catch on, providing her own block. “I didn’t say it because that’s not the case at all.”

“Then I see no issue. He’s his own person, Faust-san. He should be perfectly capable about the selection of his own romantic interests without your assistance. If you think he’s going to reject me, then I’d rather it come from him than you. No matter what you believe he’s going to do to be, I can handle myself just fine.”

“I’m telling you this because—”

“Do you like someone, Faust-san?” Ayane asked. Margeret visibly blushed at the words, composure lost from a single sentence as her eyes darted to where they could steadfastly observe the tiling on the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes. If that’s the case, then you can understand how I feel right? I can even find a way to pay you back for helping me since I’ll be indebted to you. I may not be perfect but I could even try to help you out with that guy you li—”

Margeret bristled, working herself up into a panic from the looks of it. “No!” she said suddenly, voice shooting up an octave. She covered her mouth with her hands for a moment, moving them away when she was ready to speak. “No, I can’t accept that, Senpai, and I can’t go through with what you’re asking me to do. I’m sorry for being rude but—” the bell rang across the school, signaling the end of lunch period “—I really should be attending class and so should you.”

The blue-haired girl strolled out of the classroom, and her upperclassman almost swore she was smirking. Without warning, Ayane connected her foot with the nearby desk. “Dammit!”

She took a deep breath, calming herself. All she needed to do was be stubborn and push forward with everything she had. Any opponent would wear down after time, even if they had the patience of a saint and the stamina of a monster. Ayane found herself smiling despite her defeat as she headed for the doorway.

_Just you wait. All I have to do is ask tomorrow. And the day after that. And day after day until you say yes._

Despite the crowd forming in the hallway, Ayane planted her feet, facing the direction she could still see the headmaster’s daughter retreating down.

“This isn’t over Faust-san! I’m just going to stick around you every day until you agree to introduce me to your uncle! You can count on it! I promise you I’m absolutely serious!”

Her intentions shouted to the school, Ayane turned on her heel and grinned all the way back to the classroom.


	2. Chapter Two

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Two

* * *

Ayane had to admit, Margeret sure had astounding endurance for a first-year. Even Ayane’s group of friends had a hard time of fending her off, and they knew what to expect. Margeret didn’t, and she had lasted through three days’ worth of following, lunchtime questions, and after school visits in the classroom. Each time she pulled off a perfect smile and denial, the result of what Ayane had to guess was years of manners’ training.

That politeness had a downfall that Margeret didn’t even seem to realize. Not outright telling Ayane to back off was the biggest mistake that could possibly be made in this situation. It gave her plenty of reason to just stick around, to keep making her requests, and no one else would see it as suspicious. Ayane smiled at the thought, keeping her progress in check while grabbing her bento and heading to Margeret and Ryouichi’s classroom.

Sooner or later, Margeret would give in, at least for the sake of returning to whatever status quo the first-year girl had beforehand.

“Hey there, Faust-san,” Ayane called, catching up to Margeret, Mocha and Ruma trailing behind their friend. “Haruhana-san, Izona-san. So how about it, Faust-san, are you going to help me out today, or not?” Ayane smiled, the expression unnecessary as Margeret never looked back to the request. Ruma rolled her eyes and Mocha giggled.

“Ah, that’s no fair, Fukui-senpai,” Mocha lamented. “You and Whiskey get to have your secrets, and she just leaves us in the dark all the time.” Margeret made a disgruntled noise, and Mocha laughed again. “Don’t be too hard on her, though, Senpai. Whiskey’s just tsundere, so I’m sure she wants to help but is being difficult.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Mocha-chan,” Whiskey interrupted. Mocha pouted but didn’t argue. “When it comes down to it, I would rather not be involved with what Fukui-senpai is trying to accomplish. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

_At least look people in the eye when you reject them,_ Ayane thought. She managed to avoid pursing her lips, smiling instead. That was probably that rudest that Margeret ever got when turning her down. Hopefully that meant that she would break soon enough, but Ayane wasn’t so sure. “I’m sure you’ll come around, if you reconsider things, Faust-san,” she said.

“Not to be rude, but how long do you intend to hang around us like this?” Ruma asked. Ayane observed the redhead that was now glaring at her, but didn’t respond. “I know you have your own friends, so why can’t they help you out with whatever your problem is? Just hanging around us all the time is creepy.”

_I asked my friends what to do and they sent me here._ Ayane laughed instead, making sure to smile. Sure enough, Ruma’s eyes narrowed at her, but Ayane didn’t back down. “I would do that, except that my problem requires Faust-san’s expertise.” Ruma didn’t seem to want to pursue the question any further, so she only scoffed and looked away.

“I for one am perfectly fine with you hanging around us, Senpai!” Mocha interjected, beaming. The girl looked terribly close to latching onto Ayane’s arm, but was holding back quite nicely. At the very least someone out there seemed to understand how personal space worked around here. “Hey, Whiskey’s probably gonna take a while to agree to help you out, you know. In that case, we should try and be friends while you’re here. You can call me ‘Mocha-chan’ if you wanna, Senpai!”

“Um, thanks…” Ayane didn’t like the idea of this taking too long, but if even one of Margeret’s friends thought she would be prone to giving in sooner or later, she would take it. Mocha was staring at Ayane intensely, an unnerving expression for the cute demeanor the girl usually exhibited. It took a moment to realize what she was aiming for, and even then Ayane waited to say the words. “Thanks, Mocha-chan.”

Mocha smiled at the words, giggling to herself and resuming walking normally. They were almost to the area outdoors where the freshmen girls usually ate lunch, Ayane sitting down on the opposite end of the arc made by her new lunch mates. Ryouichi was probably terribly jealous of Ayane for being able to eat lunch around Margeret. Served him right for keeping his crush a secret.

At least she could somewhat understand his interest though. Not that Ayane thought like that, but Margeret was definitely someone different to be around than most girls. Even though the first-year was trying her hardest to be as standoffish as possible to Ayane without being rude, it was obvious she was normally (or at least could be) gentle. Margeret would always smile when talking to her friends, and occasionally hugged her bento to her chest like she was worried something would cause the food to fall and be wasted.

“Hehe, Whiskey’s got that dreamy look at her lunch again,” Mocha said. Margeret immediately bristled at the words, her face starting to tint the slightest shades of pink. Admittedly, she held onto her dignity quite well, although her composure was a different story.

“I-I do not!” Margeret snapped. Ayane wondered if the blue-haired girl was guarding her lunch on purpose or it was just a subconscious reaction.

“That just means she got Rin to cook for her today,” Ruma offhandedly commented, taking a bite out of her own lunch. Whiskey’s face darkened another shade of pink, bringing it ever closer to red. Ruma didn’t pursue the point any further, focusing on opening her soda can.

Mocha pouted a little. “No fair! Okumura-kun’s cooking is super good!” she protested. The smaller girl launched herself towards Margeret, who immediately pulled her bento out of the way. Mocha ended up taking the bento’s place on Margeret’s lap. “I wanna try some of his food, too, come on!”

“Absolutely not!” Margeret responded, keeping the bento well out of her friend’s reach. “You’re just as much as friends with him as I am! Just ask him to and I’m sure he’ll cook for you, too! Or better yet, just go and share lunch with Yukio, why don’t you?!”

_Okumura Rin, huh?_ Ayane thought, bringing her chopsticks to her mouth. While it was a setback to be completely ignored like this, the act of being such an enduring presence would have to do when it came down to it. Besides, completely invading in every part of Margeret’s life was going a bit far, for Ayane’s tastes.

_I guess that’s the guy that Faust-san likes, given by how much of a big deal she’s making of it. Maybe I should ask Ryou about him. Maybe they’ll be in the same class or something… Sorry, Ryou, but this is probably the best way this will work out, so I’m gonna have to put your feelings aside for a tiny little bit._

Even if sticking her nose into all of Margeret’s business was a bit too much, sticking it in where things were necessary was a completely different ballgame altogether.

* * *

By the time day five rolled around, Ayane was visibly frustrated. Ryou was still in his information gathering phase—getting him to do the work under the guise of Okumura Rin potentially having connections to the Headmaster was enough of an excuse—which felt like it was taking too damn long for Ayane’s tastes. She settled into her drills at tennis practice, staying afterwards to vent off her spare energy.

Just how much freakin’ patience did Margeret possess anyway?! Ayane’s constant presence hadn’t been enough to sway the Headmaster’s daughter, and the tennis star was on the verge of finally snapping. She had only been able to contain herself on the reminder that this had suddenly turned into a battle of determination, and Ayane wasn’t about to lose at something like that.

One of the new freshmen recruits had been assigned as Ayane’s practice partner for the day, and she had gone easy through that time, but now all bets were off. The girl on the other end of the court looked about ready to collapse, and Ayane was almost out of breath, but her muscles still itched to keep moving.

“And she just brushes it off like it’s not a serious request at all!” Ayane concluded, finishing up an ongoing rant that had been going since the last serve. She hit the ball to the other end of the court, the freshman missing the opportunity for a return. “You get where I’m coming from, right, Yori-chan?”

Sitting on the sidelines Yori nodded, a laptop poised on her lap. Ayane knew her friend had no interest in the sport whatsoever, and only came to practice so she wouldn’t have to walk back to the dorms on her own. Even now, Yori was muttering to herself, focusing on whatever she was writing. Ayane appreciated the gesture.

“Senpai, can I stop now?” the freshman asked, clearly out of breath. Ayane realized that she had been going all-out in a practice match, and stopped herself from serving the ball again.

“Yeah, give the rookie a break,” said Abe Youdai, coming out of the changing rooms. Ayane stuck her tongue out at the team captain, her role in last year’s national victory allowing her to get away with it. “Come on, Fukui, there’s no need to scare off any new teammates.” He smiled at the freshman. “You can head home now.”

Ayane pouted slightly as she watched the first year rush off. As far as she was concerned, if the girl still had energy to run like that, then she couldn’t have been that worn out and could keep playing. “I was just about to say that, Abe,” Ayane retorted instead. “I get that you want to be loved, Cap, but there’s no need to make me look bad to accomplish it.”

Abe chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to make you look bad, Fukui. With all that energy you’ve been exerting lately, you’re being a model team member for the rest of the underclassmen, and some of the upper classmen, too.” One of the current third year members behind Abe winced at the words. Ayane allowed herself a triumphant grin. “However, if you insist on exhausting their energy so quickly, then they’ll never have the motivation to give practice their all again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ayane rolled her eyes. It wasn’t a philosophy she used for her own training, but she understood very well how it would apply to others. “I guess I already had the enthusiasm part for the sport nailed down. I didn’t need to be guided into it like others, so I really don’t know what it’s like.”

“I’ll agree to that fact,” Abe said. The team captain stepped forward, easily plucking the racket out of Ayane’s hands. The girl wanted to protest, but knew there was no point. No matter how well she and Abe got along, there was still no swaying him from his convictions. “However, if you overwork yourself, enthusiasm won’t be able to make you get up in the morning. Practice’s over, go and put all that energy into something else.”

Ayane scowled, snatching her racket back. As much as she wanted to keep playing, orders were orders. She walked over to her bag on the side of the court, slinging it over her shoulder. “By the way, where did all that energy come from, Fukui? Did something happen?”

Ayane froze for a moment, then took a deep breath to regain her composure. Her fingers tightened around the racket’s handle. It would only have to be for a moment, and as long as her back was turned, Abe would never be able to see the expression on her face. “It’s none of your business,” she managed to snap, even if she said the words too quickly for her liking. “Come on, Yori-chan, let’s go!”

“Eh?” the other girl asked, breaking her silence. “Um, can we wait just a bit longer? I’m in the middle of an important scene and—ah! My battery’s dying! F-Fukui-san, wait for me!” Yori stood up, racing after her friend into the girls’ locker rooms.

* * *

Ayane stood outside the door to Margeret’s classroom after school, a week having passed since she had made her initial request. They hadn’t seen each other over the weekend, which would have given Margeret time to build up her defenses again. At least it also provided Ayane a chance to recover from her own frustrations, making her tactics sharper.

Ryouichi hadn’t been able to pull much up on the Okumura kid that would have been useful in the long run—he was a special enrollment case, he did terribly in most of his classes, a general slacker. In fact, Ayane was stuck wondering just what Margeret saw in a guy like that when she appeared to be a top student. However, Ryouichi _did_ know a lot about Margeret, and proceeded to talk Ayane’s ear off with pointless information on the younger girl.

Or it had appeared to be useless. Somewhere in the babbling, Ayane had learned that Margeret was apparently a die-hard otaku—not that you would be able to notice at a glance. That had been how she and Ryouichi had started talking, and even more so how he had formed a crush on her. Ayane hadn’t given it much thought at first, but at some point, two of Ryouichi’s ramblings had connected.

_So if she’s such a big otaku, it’s safe to assume that she and Ryouichi hold a lot of common interests and habits. Hell, I bet they both go out of their way to blow all their money on magazines and tankobon the day they go on sale! If I’m right, this should definitely work._

For whatever reason, Margeret was the only one to exit the classroom today, causing Ayane to peek inside the room. The other two girls that were normally at Margeret’s side were apparently being lectured by the teacher for some reason or other. Considering it an advantage that there would be two less ways for Margeret to ignore her, Ayane followed the other girl.

It took a bit to catch up as Margeret paid no heed to slow down, but Ayane wasn’t an athlete for nothing. She was at the first-year’s side in less than a minute. “Hey there, Faust-san,” Ayane said, keeping a casual tone to her voice. “I noticed that the others were missing. Did something happen?” There was no need to rush things today. She would make her opponent comfortable, and then strike when they least expected it.

“It’s not really my place to say anything, but I know that neither of them will care, so I might as well tell you,” Margeret said. She never met Ayane’s eyes once, but was able to manage it without seeming rude. “They both performed poorly on the last test we had and are probably being told to take remedial lessons as we speak.”

“Huh. I thought you guys all went to some cram school or something, so I expected you all to be top-notch students.” Ayane shrugged, switching the bag containing her lunch between hands. Margeret made no comment. “Oh, well, that’s not the point, though. So, Faust-san, I heard you like anime and manga and stuff.”

For a second, Margeret’s expression softened, until she contorted her face into a full-blown glare towards Ayane. “I am. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t refer to it in such a dismissing manner as _stuff_.”

That was the kind of reaction that came from having to be defensive about something you truly cared about. Even though it hadn’t been over the same topic, Ayane had been there and she could understand. It also meant that her assumption had been right and winning over Margeret would be as easy as she had predicted.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend or anything. I was just curious is all,” Ayane said, hoping to run damage control. “My best friend’s an otaku, so I really don’t see anything wrong with it.” She bit her lip, hoping the use of the term wouldn’t offend Margeret farther. Ryouichi didn’t think much of being referred to as an otaku, but Ayane knew some people did. Fortunately, Margeret seemed satisfied enough by the words. “It must take some dedication to keep up with such an expensive hobby.”

Margeret turned out to the courtyard, settling down into a patch of grass without paying her companion any notice. Ayane sat down next to her, not bothering to adjust her skirt and letting her spats take the job of not showing anything off. She could definitely see why Margeret opted to wear the male’s uniform but figured the request would be too much of a hassle. Besides, she had already worn the thing for over a year, might as well keep going with it.

“_Itadakimasu_,” Margeret said before beginning to eat, and Ayane repeated the action. The second year wondered if today’s lunch had been made by Okumura as well, but wasn’t able to tell. A few bites in, Margeret finally decided to continue the conversation. “What’s all this flattery for? If you’re trying to casually segue into asking, just get it over with. In fact, Fukui-senpai, the answer is still no.”

Ayane shook her head, clicking her chopsticks together. “Come on, at least hear me out.” Margeret resumed eating her lunch, which wasn’t technically a refusal. “Surely someone as dedicated to their hobby as you attends Comiket regularly, am I right?”

“It’s not a hobby.” Most people would have taken the words as a denial of interest, but Ayane knew better. Margeret’s tone of voice gave away just how serious she was. In fact, the words _It’s a way of life_ wouldn't have sounded out of place as the next sentence at all. “And I don’t see what my Comiket attendance has to do with anything.”

_Bingo._ The entire situation was in the metaphorical bag. “Well, from what I hear, it’s a fun place to be. You get to go and pick up a bunch of one-of-a-kind merchandise, as long as you’re lucky enough to make it to all the stalls you wanna go to on time. From what I hear, it’s best to go in groups and split the work between everyone so that everything gets bought. Am I right?”

Whiskey rolled her eyes, not impressed by the strategy. “Yeah, so?” It wasn’t all that impressive if it was a logical conclusion to come to. Fortunately, Ayane wasn’t trying to come up with something novel in the slightest.

“In that case, I propose a deal, Faust-san,” she said, smirking. The look on Margeret’s face showed that she didn’t like where this was going. Ayane sat up straight and looked the other girl in the eyes for effect. It was the same as psyching out your opponent in tennis before you even made the serve. “_You_ at least make an honest effort to introduce me to your uncle. It doesn’t even have to go well, you just have to try. In return, _I’ll_ personally accompany you to Comiket and help you buy whatever goods you’ve got your eyes on. How’s that sound for a deal? I’d say it’s more than fair for you.”

Margeret frowned, trying to keep up her stoic act, but Ayane could tell she was cracking. Ryouichi wouldn’t have been able to resist a deal like that, even if it meant doing the entire group’s homework for _months_. For whatever reason, Margeret struck Ayane as an even more dedicated otaku than her friend, possibly due to the fact that she had the principal’s income to back her up. It had been the perfect plan.

And sure enough, Margeret looked like she was having an internal argument with herself. Body language said that she wasn’t going to break, but her eyes said otherwise. They were the same exact eyes that Ryouichi had when he got excited about a series, or found a good deal so he could buy more DVDs or books or whatever with the remains of his allowance. And no matter how much of a fight Ryouichi tried to put up against it, his conscience always lost.

As expected, Margeret released a huge sigh. “Fine,” she said, almost spitting out the word. I’ll see what I can do. But you better hold true to that promise of yours!”

Ayane nodded in agreement. It was really too easy.

* * *

“Agh, this sucks!” Whiskey Pheles—or, to the ordinary members of the students of True Cross Academy, Margeret Faust—complained, falling face first onto her bed, burying her mouth in pillows. Despite the muffling effect, her whines could still be heard in throughout the dorm room. Ruma was propped up on pillows of her top bunk, flipping through one of Whiskey’s magazines. Mocha was looking over her notes, but they weren’t for ordinary classes.

All three of the girls were students at the True Cross Academy Exorcist Cram School, and Mocha’s notes reflected the fact. Throughout the room were various other items that completed the image: textbooks on fighting demons, cleaning supplies for weapons, and summoning circles scribbled across scraps of paper. At first glance, it would look like they all held an interest in the occult, but it was more than that.

Whiskey’s tail reflected her agitation, swinging wildly behind her. The half-demon girl stood up, pacing across the room, picking up things as she went. “I mean, she falls for him just for how he looks, are you kidding me?” she ranted. “This is Uncle _Amaimon_ we’re talking about. It’s not like I can just go ahead and pull him out of wherever the fuck Vati sent him over the summer. And how the hell is she so persistent about it?! It doesn’t make _sense_!”

“Whiskey-chan, your coal tar are getting everywhere,” Mocha commented, batting one of the small demons away from her face. Sure enough, the air was starting to cluster with them. Whiskey sighed, a soft purple light filling the room and dismissing the demons. “Besides, you know that love is blind, after all. Since she doesn’t have a Temptaint, it’s extra blind in this case.” The brunette giggled, and Ruma scoffed.

“Just tell your dad about it,” the redhead offered. “I’m sure that he can just erase her memory or something.” Whiskey hesitated a bit before organizing the books in Mocha’s bag back onto their owner’s desk. Ruma sat up, her magazine falling shut. “Don’t tell me that that stupid Comiket deal _got_ to you! I don’t care, I’ll go shopping with you, just don’t let that monster anywhere near her, you got me!”

Mocha’s smile dropped, looking serious for the first time in a long time. Whiskey hated it when the brunette did that, especially at her, because she normally didn’t like the words that followed. “You really should be careful about this, Whiskey-chan,” Mocha said. “I know that Comiket help is important, but is it really worth the risk? Amaimon’s one of the princes of Gehenna. Fukui-senpai could get really hurt if she isn’t careful…”

“Come on, you guys, as if I’d actually let Uncle Amaimon anywhere near a non-exorcist—or even an exorcist for that matter!” Whiskey said. She picked up Ruma’s uniform from the floor, searching for its hanger. “I know very well just how dangerous he is, which is why I’ve been trying to keep Fukui-senpai away from him. Sure, I made a silly choice, but I just agreed to _try_. If I say I did that should be enough.”

“Whiskey-chan, lying doesn’t suit you very well,” Mocha commented. At least part of her smile was back, even if the rest of her expression was distant.

Ruma jumped off her bunk, landing hard but upright on the floor. “And what, she’s actually supposed to go through with it?” she said. “Hell no! Whiskey, you even think about it, and I’ll go and tell Fukui everything. I don’t care if it’ll get me in trouble with the cram school or whatever.”

Whiskey hoisted herself up the ladder to Ruma’s bed, tucking in the blankets. “Easy, easy,” the blue-haired girl said. “No need to be so accusatory, Ruma. There’s plenty of ways for this situation to pan out, and Uncle Amaimon doesn’t even need to see the light of day.”

“Oh? What’d you have in mind?” Ruma turned her gaze on Whiskey, and Mocha even peeked over her shoulder while waiting for a response.

“It’s simple,” Whiskey said. “I need to talk to Vati.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Three

* * *

Ayane could have jumped for joy if that wasn’t terribly cliché as it was. She did, however, end up humming as she walked through the halls, smiled without meaning to, and had a seemingly infinite amount of energy to throw out during practice that she even outlasted Abe in a never-ending combat mode challenge.

“And so, after much badgering, Faust-san finally agreed to help me out!” Ayane announced at the dinner table her group was sharing. They hadn’t seen much of each other for the past few weeks, except for classes and passes in the hallway. And while the end result had been worth it, Ayane had to admit that she missed her friends.

“Oh, darling, I’m so proud of you!” Michiko exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure if this Margeret girl would ever give in, but I should have known you would have come out victorious! You should never let anything get between you and what you want.”

“Is that why you never let shame get between you and—ow!” Ryouichi winced, as Michiko’s foot slammed down on top of his toes. She had even changed out of her uniform so she was wearing heels, too. “Ouch, ouch, ouch, _shit_, that _hurts_! I get it, I get it, I went too far, please stop putting more pressure on it!” Ryouichi sighed, and Michiko sat up straight, an unaffected look on her features. “But, yeah, way to go getting Faust-san’s help, Ayane. Since you guys are working together now, maybe we could all hang out some time.”

“And what makes you think that I’d do a favor like _that_ for you, you little weasel?” Ayane said. Ryouichi dropped his head in defeat. That didn’t stop Ayane from continuing, though. “You can’t keep a secret like that and expect me to just help you out so easily. For all I know you could have a bunch of other secret crushes going on that I don’t know about.”

Ryouichi shot up in his seat. Yori pulled her dinner to the other side of the table, far away as she could manage. “How does that make you any different?!” he retorted. Ayane raised an eyebrow. “You kept your crush a secret, but you still dragged me around to help you.”

“Yeah, but I never really intended to do anything about it. I thought it was pointless and that I would get over it in time. You, on the other hand, seem to be so desperate to hang out with Faust-san that you can’t even take time to congratulate me before you come begging for help!”

“What? I—” Ryouichi spluttered. Ayane smirked. She had him. “Yeah, okay, fine, I’m sorry, can’t you just help a guy out a little?” He even clapped his hands together in front of him.

Ayane had to shake her head. “No, there’s no way,” she said. She didn’t have the heart to tell Ryouichi that Margeret already had a crush on someone else. Besides, that didn’t have to mean there was no hope for him in the future. It was just easier to pretend like she was angry with him for keeping a secret. Even easier since a part of her really was.

Ryouichi heaved a huge sigh. Yori finally spoke up. “Don’t look so sad, Shirou-san,” she said. “This is just a little bit of adversity you have to face. Besides, I think that completing acts like confessing means more if you find the right way to do it on your own, don’t you?” Completing the advice, Yori smiled. It was enough for Ryouichi to perk back up yet again. Only those two could talk like they were in fiction and actually get somewhere in life.

Michiko nodded her approval. “Yori-chan’s right, Ryou-kun,” she said. “There’s nothing more romantic than doing all the work to show how much they care. But regardless of that, you really should just focus on getting to know Margeret better. Why not just ask to go shopping together or something? I’m sure you have enough common interests to pull that off.” Ryouichi put a hand on his chin, considering the idea.

“But what do you plan to do next, Ayane-san?” Yori asked. Ayane was glad to have the conversation shift back to her. She wouldn’t admit it, but listening to Ryouichi pine on about Margeret was a bit grating on her nerves. Yori fidgeted a bit with her chopsticks. “I know that Faust-san is doing most of the work, but if she can let you meet her uncle, what will you do?”

To be honest, Ayane hadn’t thought that far. At first there hadn’t been a need to, considering she hadn’t been planning to go through with it. After that, she had been focusing on getting Margeret to actually help out. Now she actually needed to consider.

Best case scenario, she would meet him. They could talk and Ayane could find out what sort of person he was. She needed to have something in mind to do. All Margeret was bound to do by the terms of their deal was to introduce them. She didn’t have to plan a meeting. That was now Ayane’s job.

She would have to plan a date.

“Ugh, I dunno what to do. It’s hard whenever I don’t even know what he’s like!” she complained. It would have been easier if Margeret was rational and not so tight-lipped on the details. Being able to ask would apparently make it too easy, though. “What do you guys think I should do?”

“Well, let’s consider what we do know about him,” Michiko said. She placed a manicured nail to her lips. “You said he dressed a bit like a punk right?”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” From what Ayane could remember, his jacket was almost ready to be thrown away it was so tattered and torn. It was surprising that his family let him walk around like that. If the Headmaster’s income was anything to go by, his family was pretty well off.

“In that case, maybe he likes music? I’m not saying that you should shell out the money for a concert or anything, darling, but there are a lot of great music stores in the shopping district.”

Yori frowned. “You’re being horribly stereotypical, Michiko-san,” she criticized. “You can’t just assume things like that about a person based on how they’re dressed.”

“Calm down, darling, I was just offering a suggestion. Besides, you can still learn a lot about people based on what they’re wearing, you have to admit that,” Michiko said. Ayane thought it was a pretty good attempt at calming Yori down, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Yes, like how they treat their belongings or how much time they put into getting ready or how much they care about their belongings. However, it’s unfair to limit what a person can be interested in simply based on their appearance! People are more diverse than they appear at first glance and will often care about things that you wouldn’t be able to simply guess. The only way to use clothing to determine interest is through symbols and logos!” Yori gasped, her face turning red. She looked down, a small hand covering her mouth. “Sorry, everyone, I got carried away…”

Ayane smiled. “It’s okay, Yori-chan, no one minds,” she assured.

“Yeah, besides, it’s cute to watch you get worked up about things,” Ryouichi added. Michiko nodded. It didn’t seem possible, but the color on Yori’s face darkened. “All that passion you put into looking at other people just shows how dedicated of a writer you are, though.”

Despite the assurance, Yori’s shoulders were still slumped. “Alright then…”

“Ah, I got it!” Michiko exclaimed. “Putting Yori-chan’s point into consideration, why don’t you just think of a bunch of different ideas and make plans for them. Then you can go for a walk and chat and casually find out what he’s into. That way you can say ‘Hey, there’s this great whatever place I know! Let’s go there!’” Ayane frowned at the imitation. She didn’t think her voice sounded that bad… Michiko nodded, the curls in her hair bouncing. “It’s perfect!”

Ryouichi nodded as well, although with less vigor. “It doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea,” he said. Ayane raised an eyebrow. “Don’t gimme that look. There’s plenty to do in this place, so it’s not like you’ll run out of ideas. As long as you can get an idea, you can text us and we’ll keep track of locations for you.”

“It sounds like it could work, Ayane-san…” Yori added.

All of her friends turned to her. Ayane wasn’t fully convinced, but it was better than the plan she had, which was nothing. As long as she didn’t freeze up and start babbling nonsense, there was a pretty good chance it would work.

She nodded as well. “Alright, then, I’m trusting you guys.”

Michiko smiled a bit. “Don’t worry at all, darling. We’ll all have your back. Besides, when it comes to planning a date, you couldn’t have come to someone better for advice than me.”

* * *

Whiskey never thought that she would dread having to go back to her own house. She had been staring down the door for at least fifteen minutes, the magic key back home clenched in her fist. It had been exactly where she had put it a few months ago, tucked into the pencil cup on her desk. It should have been easy to go back, but the reason made it a bit more than difficult.

The girl frowned, hitting her head against the door. “Oh, just get over it Whiskey and go talk to him! Vati’s a bit weird, but he’s more than reasonable. I’m sure he’ll be able to come up with a solution…”

Whiskey unlocked the door, the magic key’s properties sending her through the Pheles mansion on the other side. Her nose immediately protested from the smell of too much soap and detergent. Whoever Mephisto had let take care of the cleaning while his daughter was gone obviously didn’t know what they were doing, even if everything did seem to sparkle.

She did her best to ignore it so she wouldn’t get distracted to clean up herself. Eventually, she’d have to come back and try to teach her father how to take care of things himself—_again_—but that could wait. Whiskey navigated herself to the third floor on autopilot.

As a last thought, she tucked her tail underneath her shirt. It tickled her skin, but Mephisto was always going on about manners. Whiskey normally didn’t care, but if she was asking for a favor, then she needed every advantage she could get.

“Vati!” she called. The tell-tale _pop_ sounded behind her, and when Whiskey turned, Mephisto Pheles was standing there in all of his decked-out glory.

“Whiskey-chan!” he exclaimed, closing the distance between them and pulling his daughter into a hug. Whiskey returned the action, secretly enjoying the fact that she was sometimes still a child in her father’s eyes. She worked hard to be as responsible as she could manage, but it was exhausting at times. “You haven’t stopped by the house much lately. Have you been doing alright since Kyoto?”

“I’ve been doing fine, no need to worry,” Whiskey assured, pulling back from the hug. The trip and battle had been tiring, but they had all made it back fine, aside from Rin getting in trouble. And there was nothing she could do about that, so worrying was pointless. “Actually, I stopped by to ask a favor, if that’s okay…”

“Ask away!” Mephisto threw his arms out to emphasize his enthusiasm. “You know that you can ask me for anything you’ll ever need, Whiskey-chan. So no need to feel nervous. Tell Vati what you need!”

Whiskey bit her lip. Somehow, being told not to be nervous only had the opposite effect. Even if she knew that Mephisto would be willing to do anything she needed, there was a chance things could end up getting out of hand, too. She needed to be careful.

“There’s this upperclassman,” Whiskey started. “I think she may have seen Uncle Amaimon at some point. Obviously not during one of his attacks, but she still saw him.”

Mephisto leaned against a nearby wall. “Is that really that bad of an issue, Whiskey-chan? As long as she didn’t see anything that could compromise the Order, there isn’t anything wrong with her seeing him.”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that…” Whiskey shuffled her feet a bit. Now that she thought about it, what was happening seemed more and more like some manga plot. Great, just what she needed more of in her life. “It sounds like she has a crush on him…and she asked me to introduce her to him.”

Mephisto’s eyes widened before he chuckled. He probably would have laughed more if Whiskey didn’t seem so worried about it. “Is that so? She’s certainly got guts if she thinks she can make it anywhere with someone like him.” He snickered again.

“I really don’t think she knows much about him. That’s a good thing in some respects, but it’s a serious pain in others.”

Mephisto nodded. “And then what?” he asked. Whiskey wasn’t sure how to respond. “I mean, my dear Whiskey-chan, what happened after she asked you to introduce him?”

“Oh, right. I told her ‘no…’” Whiskey hesitated. She stared at a spot on the wall by Mephisto’s head just so she wouldn’t have to look her father in the eyes. The curve of his lips let her know that he had already figured it out. It was best to just get it over with. “And then she proceeded to pester me for an entire week until I told her I would at least try to do something.” The last words were rushed.

This time, Mephisto did really laugh. Whiskey’s face heated up. It was stupid. This whole thing was an unnecessary embarrassment. Why did she have to take her word so damn seriously? Why had she even agreed? It was a stupid deal when it came down to it.

“She really wore you down with pure attrition?” Mephisto’s grin only got bigger. “With tenacity like that, she might make a good exorcist.”

Whiskey shuddered. Having someone like Fukui as a comrade would only make life unnecessarily more complicated. “It’s not like she did anything special,” Whiskey grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “She just offered me a better deal than having to deal with her presence every day.”

“Which would be?”

“She’s gonna come along for Winter Comiket and be a part of my purchasing squad.”

Whiskey was certain that if Mephisto laughed any more he just might fall over. Then again, she had never seen something happen like that to her father before, and he did laugh a lot. She should have expected this whenever she brought the scenario up in the first place.

Eventually, Mephisto’s laughter subsided. “It’s not a bad deal, per say,” he said. Whiskey smiled a bit at the praise. “However, it could still use some work. Remember, Whiskey-chan, the key to getting a good deal is to be the one that proposes the terms. Following along with what others hand to you just gives them the advantage.”

“A-ah, yes Vati!” Whiskey responded, snapping to attention. How long had it been since Mephisto had decided she needed a lecture? She had worked hard on everything—her exorcist training, her etiquette, her social interactions. She had completely forgotten about political skills, even when they were the most important right now.

“However, there will be plenty of time to work on that sort of thing later,” Mephisto dismissed. Whiskey nodded. Even if he said that, it didn’t make her feel any better about her shortcomings. “So, who is this girl that’s interested in my little brother? I’d say that’s important, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Right!” Whiskey had avoided speaking about Fukui simply because she didn’t like her. How petty could she get? “Fukui Ayane-senpai, second year student and member of the Tennis Club. According to Mocha-chan, she helped the team win nationals last year,” Whiskey reported.

“Ah, yes, the tennis star,” Mephisto mused. He snapped his fingers. Whiskey jumped a little, her tail threatening to stand up even within the confines of her shirt. “Well, I’d say I understand the situation enough to make a decision. Exactly what sort of favor were you intending to ask me for, Whiskey-chan?”

Whiskey stood up straight, clasping her hands behind her back. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” she said, putting forth as much professionalism as she could muster. “We can’t let the two of them meet, but Fukui-senpai isn’t the type to give up so easily. Even if I tell her he’s not interested, she’s still going to try. I was hoping you could do something, maybe adjust her memory so that she forgets about him.”

Mephisto tapped a finger against his chin. For some reason, Whiskey’s stomach felt as if popcorn was being made inside of it. She had never been this nervous around her father before. Mephisto had always been able to help her relax, regardless of the situation. But now…

_What’s this uneasy feeling that I’m getting?_

“It’s true that is an option,” Mephisto allowed. Whiskey bit the inside of her cheek. There was a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence if she had ever heard one. “However, I don’t think that such extremes will be necessary. I think things would be simpler if we just let the two meet.”

“Wh-what are you saying?!”

Mephisto put a hand on Whiskey’s shoulder. He was giving her a sympathetic look, but she could still see the grin underneath it. “Erasing memories has a lot of troubles and risks involved, Whiskey-chan. I’d say that we’d have a lot less issues if the two of them met each other. One day with Amaimon should be plenty to let Fukui-chan realize her feelings are misplaced. And if not, I’m sure Amaimon will get bored enough that he won’t care to see her again.”

That was a possibility. It was also highly likely. It still didn’t seem right.

Whiskey finally unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “But Vati, we can’t just let him outside like that!” she said, voice rising to a shout. “Uncle Amaimon’s _dangerous_! Every time he does what he wants, people get hurt! Especially if he gets bored! Last year, at Mepphyland, during the exorcist training camp… I don’t like Fukui-senpai much, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her walk into a slaughter like that!”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Whiskey-chan,” Mephisto said, shaking a gloved finger at her. Whiskey took a step back as the appendage was nearly shoved into her face. “Obviously I would place restrictions on him, and if he even came close to breaking them, I would stop it from happening.” Whiskey knew she shouldn’t feel very assured by the words, yet part of her worries started to ebb away regardless.

_He’s way too convincing… That’s Vati for you, but I can’t let myself give into him. This is a whim I just can’t accept!_

“You really have come a long way, though.”

“H-how’s that?” Whiskey asked. She hated the stammer in her voice.

“Because the Whiskey-chan I know wouldn’t have had a second thought about this in elementary school, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have even considered speaking out against it in middle school,” Mephisto explained. Whiskey blushed as she thought back. Had she always been that naïve? “What I’m saying is that you’ve become a more discerning individual in your own world. I’m very proud of you.”

Whiskey’s cheeks remained hot, even if she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. She smiled. She couldn’t help it; after all these years, hearing praise from her father still made her completely happy.

“And since that’s the case, I’ll throw in some extra precautions,” Mephisto continued. “It’ll be simple to put a couple of restrictions on his powers, and he’ll have consequences if he tries to surpass the limits I give him.”

“All of them,” Whiskey said, force coming back into her voice. “I want all of the possible precautions you can place on him, Vati.”

Mephisto grinned. “That’s more like it, Whiskey-chan. You have a deal.”

* * *

It was dark, and he couldn’t sleep enough. Everything hurt when he was awake. Everything made him tired, but not enough to let him just sleep all the time. There was no way he would be let off that easily, and he knew it. Being awake was part of the punishment. Being awake in the dark where nothing happened but pain.

It was so dark that he closed his eyes instantly when the light found him. It left spots on his eyelids that disappeared after a few seconds. Even so, he had to squint to be able to open his eyes at all.

“Amaimon,” Mephisto said as a form of greeting.

“Aniue,” Amaimon responded the best he could. He was tired, and it showed in his voice. Not much of the pain showed through; he was strong enough to withstand the spears shoved through his body. Even so, it was annoying. “Aniue, it hurts,” he protested.

“That’s not important right now,” Mephisto dismissed. Amaimon frowned but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t about to test the how much of a temper his brother had. Mephisto had to be here for a reason. “It must be boring just sitting around here in the dark, isn’t it?”

Even Amaimon could recognize that it wasn’t really a question. “It’s so boring,” he answered anyway.

“In that case, why don’t you do me a favor?” Despite how the last few favors Mephisto had asked him for had went, Amaimon felt a spark of interest. It was just so boring here that he couldn’t help it. Mephisto smiled. “There’s a human I want you to meet, to spend some time with her. Would you be interested?”

“Can I kill her?”

Mephisto’s smile immediately dropped, and Amaimon winced. That had been the wrong thing to say. He would have to watch it. “I already told you that if you hurt any of the students of this academy, I would kill you,” Mephisto repeated. So then that was a ‘no’. “This is no exception. If you’re going outside, you won’t even think about doing anything of the sort. The second you even twitch the wrong way, you’ll be sent right back here. Understood?”

Amaimon ground his teeth in frustration. There wasn’t much else he could do in protest. “But, Aniue, if I can’t fight anyone, what’s the point?”

Mephisto snapped his fingers. An additional spear impaled through his stomach. Amaimon let out a grunt of pain, but it was short. Mephisto clapped his hands together as if wiping them off.

“The point is that it will be an opportunity to get outside and not be stuck here all the time,” the older demon said as if nothing had happened. “It’s those rules or stay here.” Mephisto’s eyes narrowed. “Now I asked you if you understood.”

This wasn’t the time for unnecessary questions. “I understand,” Amaimon said, his voice still strangled. Constant pain wasn’t so much of an issue as a new impact. It would still take time to get used to it.

Mephisto’s smile returned. “Good! Now do you accept?”

Amaimon thought about it. He really thought about it. True, there were conditions, but there were always conditions when it came to Mephisto. And even though it would be boring as all hell, going outside with restrictions was better than this.

“I’ll do it.”

Another snap of the fingers and the spears were gone, all of them. Amaimon fell to the ground, but the impact barely fazed him, even with the wounds piercing through him. Already he was starting to heal, and would be back in shape after he slept for a bit.

“Very well.” Mephisto turned back over his shoulder. “I’ll leave the details to you, then!” he called. “I need to get started on those spells you requested, Whiskey-chan! I hope you two have a fun conversation, so play nice okay?”

Then Mephisto was gone, and the one left standing in his place was a girl, arms crossed.

“Okay, listen up, Uncle Amaimon,” she said. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but Vati says we have to work together on this one. That being said, until otherwise stated, I’m in charge, so you better behave. I’m not about to let you get away with things like Vati does!”

Oh, right. Her.


	4. CHapter Four

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Four

* * *

Ayane had known she was taking a risk when she had asked Michiko for help, but she really hadn’t thought that things would get this bad. Michiko had practically assaulted both their closets as soon as they let out of school the next day, and the dorm room was now coated in clothing items, even the two parts of the room that didn’t belong to Michiko and Ayane.

She would have to apologize to her other dorm mates when they got back, but for now Ayane was being subjected to having her hair toyed with, the clothes forgotten. Michiko had been jumping between the two aspects for some time, not making a solid decision on which one she would have to finish first in order to make the most of the other.

“This is nice and all, Michiko, but I thought we were supposed to be cataloguing date ideas, not adjusting my image,” Ayane said, holding up a hand. She could handle being a dress-up doll for some time—this wasn’t the first time, after all—but she drew the line whenever Michiko pulled out the hair ties. Even the ones that weren’t supposed to pulled too much on her roots to the point that she didn’t even put up her hair when she played tennis.

Michiko pouted, but returned the hairbrush and its accompaniments back to the side. “Don’t you worry about a thing, darling, Yori-chan and Ryou-kun are taking care of that as we speak,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. It didn’t work. “You just have so many cute clothes buried in the back of your closet that I just can’t pass up the opportunity to go through them.”

“How can you forget, you’re the one that bought most of them for me,” Ayane grumbled. At the moment, she had been crammed into some dress or another that had been one of several birthday presents. Even if she wore skirts on the court, it felt weird wearing one without spats. “Besides, I get that I should look presentable and everything, but I really don’t want him to like me just because of my looks…”

“Be as that may, that doesn’t mean you should just dismiss the idea.” Michiko turned to the stack of clothes on Ayane’s bed, checking over what she had tossed there within the past hour. “You may not be the standard person, Aya-chan, but you have your own great appeal. If you can own that and then showcase your personality, he’ll probably think something like ‘She’s cute _and_ fun to be around! It’s perfect!’”

Ayane slumped over a bit, putting her elbow on her leg and resting her head onto her palm. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.” She knew she was about as charming as the next person, but what if he didn’t like her? What was she supposed to do then?

_I’ll just have to get over it and move on. That’s about it._

Ayane didn’t like the idea much, but that was all she’d be able to do. It would be a huge hassle if she got depressed just because she was rejected. It would affect her schoolwork and her tennis life, too. That was almost too much of a risk to take. It was better to be prepared than to go into it with arrogance. Some people just couldn’t recover like Michiko.

“Hey, just how serious are we taking this?” Ayane asked. Michiko paused in tossing a shirt to the side, muttering things that Ayane wasn’t sure she would understand even if she could hear. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to go all or nothing if this doesn’t work out. I mean, doesn’t that just seem like a waste of time?”

Michiko frowned, and it wasn’t playful. “Aya-chan, that’s exactly why you _do_ need to go all out,” she said, seriousness entering her voice. “It’s true there’s a chance that things won’t go the perfect way, but if you don’t put your all into it, you’ll be stuck wondering if there was something you could have done differently. This way, you know for sure that you couldn’t have done anything different!”

“Is this supposed to be more of your ‘true love’ stuff?”

“Absolutely! If it doesn’t work out, that just means that it wasn’t meant to be. And it’s always better to know that it was wrong than to think it could have been right.” Michiko smiled and Ayane sighed. Where in the world did she get her enthusiasm from? “And what about you, Aya-chan? How seriously are you taking this?”

“What me?” Ayane hadn’t expected the reversal in the conversation. “I mean, I guess… I don’t know. Part of me wants to take it seriously, but another part of me is remembering that high school relationships usually don’t work out, so…”

“Well that just won’t do!” Michiko put her face right up to Ayane’s and shook her head, effectively blocking out the latter’s vision with hair. “No matter what the chances are, you still need to attack with everything you have! If this were a tennis match, would you give up?” She didn’t even give Ayane a chance to answer. “Of course not! What would that captain of yours say if he knew just how weak your resolve was?”

“I’m sure that Abe would chew me out, but I swear if you bring him into this…” The last thing Ayane needed was her teammates pestering her about this, too.

“Oh, so Abe’s his name then. You know, Aya-chan, you’re lucky to have such a good-looking captain…”

“Michiko!”

“Hey, can you do me a favor? Introduce me to him sometime…”

“You’re getting almost as bad as Ryouichi! Stop it!”

* * *

Whiskey was enjoying this whole date idea less and less. Explaining the whole concept to Amaimon had been an utter nightmare, plus it was going to eat up her Sunday at that. Finding free time was hard enough when it came to balancing schoolwork and exorcist duties, and now her one chance at finding time to relax was going to the extremely stressful event of keeping Fukui Ayane safe for a few hours.

Out of all of the demons it could have been, why did it have to be Amaimon? Sure, letting a non-exorcist around _any_ demon could have been dangerous, but Amaimon was even more so. He fought because it was fun and didn’t consider the consequences of his actions. He had attacked defenseless humans before, and Whiskey was sure he would do it again.

It didn’t matter what Mephisto did.

“It’s an exorcist’s duty to protect humans from demons…” Whiskey muttered to herself. She had a responsibility to take, even if she was still a student. Mephisto wanted the endeavor to be kept secret, so she couldn’t ask anyone else, either.

“Uh oh, Whiskey-chan, you’ve got that look…” Mocha commented, leaning over the table Whiskey was sitting at. Both ordinary and the cram school had let out a while ago, but Whiskey had stayed behind, trying to work out potential strategies for Fukui and Amaimon’s date. “Eh, your papers are all over the place! And you’re even lying down on your work! Whiskey-chan, are you feeling alright!?”

Whiskey sat up at Mocha’s outburst, one of the papers sticking to her face. The smaller girl reached out, pulled the paper away, and even licked a thumb and rubbed it against Whiskey’s cheek, probably removing a lead stain, all with a worried look in her eyes. Whiskey didn’t blame Mocha—in all the attempts to make a preparation plan, her usual organization attentiveness had disappeared.

“I’m not sick, just tired,” Whiskey said. Even her voice sounded off. She grimaced, beginning to pull her notes on the situation back together. “This whole nightmare’s gotten even worse. Vati didn’t budge, so now I have to basically babysit Uncle Amaimon while he goes on a date with Fukui-senpai.” It didn’t matter that it was supposed to be a secret; at least Ruma and Mocha had to know. They deserved to know.

“I see…” Mocha tried to smile, but there was a slight crease in her eyebrow that threw the whole thing off. “Don’t stress yourself out too much, okay, Whiskey-chan? If you do, it’ll just be harder to do a good job at it!”

Whiskey wanted to tell Mocha to stop it with the fake cheerfulness—that it was okay, that she didn’t need to hide it, that it was okay to be afraid—but couldn’t do it. Mocha was trying hard for her sake to be supportive. Whiskey needed to respect that.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, playing along. “I should just stop worrying about what needs to be done and do it.”

Mocha nodded, her pigtails bobbing. “That’s the spirit! Have you told Fukui-senpai yet?”

“No, not yet.” It was possible that Whiskey was looking forward to that conversation even less than the date itself. If it were anyone else besides Fukui, they might give up if they didn’t give a response. That wasn’t an option. “I was trying to make sure that I had precautions in place before I actually set up a time and place…”

“Well, you should do it soon,” Mocha advised. She was right. Whiskey knew it. The half-demon scowled. She had never procrastinated before, and it just had to be something like this that made her start to do it. Stupid Fukui and her stupid crush. “I can help you tell Ruma-chan, too. She won’t like it, but I’m sure if you tell her it’s your dad’s idea, everything will be fine!”

Whiskey almost groaned. The last thing she needed to be reminded of right now was Ruma’s crush on her father. It was like the situation with Fukui, only worse.

“Thanks, Mocha-chan. Let me work out the details with Fukui, and then we can try and talk some sense into Ruma.” Whiskey sighed, standing up. If she was going to get anywhere, she needed to just get over it and do it, no excused. Mocha helped her gather up Whiskey’s notes, and the latter headed for the door, hand buried in her pocket in search of her cell phone as she stepped into the hall.

“Hey, there you are, Whiskey! Yukio said you were hiding away out here!”

Whiskey stopped in her tracks, waiting for the boy running up to her to stop. Okumura Rin. Normally, she would have been glad to see him, but now was not one of those times. Sure, Whiskey had a crush on him, and he was cute and sweet—never mind the fact that he was technically her uncle—but right now she needed to focus on—

Damn, that smile. It was just so perfect.

“What are you up to, studying?” Rin asked, eyeing the stack of papers under Whiskey’s arm. The girl adjusted, trying to keep the writing out of view. Not only was the situation with Fukui supposed to be top secret, Rin would have protested the moment he heard. It was hard to tell if he or Ruma would have the more explosive reaction.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Whiskey allowed. “It’s sort of a special project I need to work on, so I figured here would be better instead of the dorms. We don’t all get to live in abandoned dorms like you and your brother. Things get noisy there, believe it or not.”

“Huh. I never thought about that.” Rin spaced out a bit, and Whiskey waited until he was done. She just hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Oh, that’s right!” the boy exclaimed. “I was just wondering if you wanted to eat dinner with us tonight. I found some recipes that I wanted to try out, but Yukio and I really don’t have the budget…”

He made the puppy dog face, and Whiskey almost hugged him. She really felt bad. Her father was responsible for the Okumuras’ allowances, but they barely got change in comparison to the man’s actual daughter. Whiskey usually spent her income on anime and manga, but Rin’s cooking was the best, so she had offered to pay some of his food expenses as long as she got to eat the results.

And on an average day, his cooking was good, but with first-class ingredients, it was _divine_.

“Sorry, but I’m still busy tonight,” she said. It hurt to say it. Rin probably needed a vent right now considering his potential execution, and he had gone to her for it. Whiskey had even offered to pay the food expenses for the sheer purpose of hanging out with him. It was all the more reason to solve this mess with Fukui as soon as possible. Whiskey shrugged her shoulder, drawing attention to the papers in her arm. “This project’s going to take a lot of work. Maybe next week?”

Rin had been frowning, but his eyes lit up at the words. It wasn’t the happiest Whiskey had ever seen him—there had been this one thing were his eyes sparkled and his tail had wagged, and it had been the _cutest_—but it would do for now.

“Okay!” Rin agreed. “Next week. I’ll hold you to it, Whiskey!”

Whiskey nodded and walked down the hall, trying not to run, trying to hide her blush, trying not to be tempted to accept the offer just because of that smile, trying to stop her heart from beating out of her chest.

It was a good thing Rin didn’t take as much advantage of his high-tuned senses as she did, or else he would have heard it.

Whiskey dug in her pocket, pulling out her magic key for the Pheles mansion. She had stopped carrying it a few months ago, but now access to her father and uncle were vital. She picked a random classroom door, stepping through it into the mansion entrance hall. This had to be the safest place she could think of to talk to Fukui, out of range of prying ears.

Whiskey went to Fukui’s name in her contacts—the older girl had practically shoved her number down Whiskey’s throat once she had agreed to the Comiket deal—starting the call and waiting through the rings. Halfway through the third tone, Fukui picked up.

“_Hello, Faust-san,_” she answered, the enthusiasm in her voice not even hidden in the slightest. “_How did things go? Do you have news for me?_”

It would have been easier if Fukui was at practice. At least then Whiskey could have left the deliverance of news to voicemail technology.

“My uncle is free this weekend,” Whiskey reported, and it hurt more than turning Rin down. The words actually tasted sour on her tongue. “Are you available Sunday, Fukui-senpai?”

“_Yes!_” Fukui answered, almost too quickly. “_Yes, yes, _yes_! Alright!_” Whiskey grimaced holding the phone away from her ear as her upperclassman cheered. “_I did it Michiko-chan, Faust-san told me he said yes! Amaimon’s his name right?_” she asked, resuming her conversation with Whiskey. The younger girl made a sound in confirmation. “_I’ll be sure to be there, just give me a place and a time!_”

Whiskey’s frown deepened. _Just one date. It’s only going to be one date._

The thought didn’t help her temper any, coal tars seeping into the room and filling up the air.

* * *

Okumura Rin made his way back to the dorm alone, pouting. He had been looking forward to cooking something good tonight—kind of a treat for Yukio and Kuro, even Whiskey. Instead, they were going to be back to the normal food, just barely stretching out their budget until Mephisto stopped being stingy and gave them the next chunk of allowance.

Rin sighed as he entered the building and headed towards the kitchen. Even more than the chance to eat a better meal than usual, he had been looking forward to the chance to sit down and talk to Whiskey. After Kyoto, she had said she would be able to talk to him if he needed it, and yet…

_Ugh, this sucks. I know I shouldn’t expect her to be there when she has other things to do, but…_

“Oh, there you are, Nii-san,” Yukio called, looking up from his seat. He had set up an array of notebooks and paper across the table, working on whatever it was that Yukio worked on in his spare time nowadays. It probably had something to do with Kyoto, but Rin wasn’t in the mood to ask. “Any luck on finding Faust-san?”

Rin grimaced, and Yukio hung his head in defeat. “Sorry,” Rin attempted, not knowing what else to say. Hoping it would better the situation, he held up the bag of groceries he had managed to procure. “It’s not much, but I managed to find enough on sale for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s lunch…”

“I guess we’ll have to manage,” Yukio said. He started to fidget with his pencil, and Rin felt a bit guilty. Regardless, he went back to the kitchen. The only way to fix the mood would be to get some food in their stomachs.

“I just don’t get it, though, Yukio,” he said, unpacking the groceries. “Normally Whiskey would be all for having dinner with us, but she totally blew me off.” Not thinking too much about it, Rin set himself into food-preparation autopilot.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Nii-san.” Rin glanced through the window into the cafeteria to see Yukio scribbling on his papers. “I’m sure she’s busy, like everyone else right now. You shouldn’t take it too hard.”

Rin frowned. “No, that’s not right. She was acting weird!”

Yukio looked up from the table, locking eyes with his brother. He looked tired, the rims of his glasses hiding most of the bags under his eyes, but not all of them. Rin’s frown deepened. Yukio was overworking himself, just like always. “Weird?” the younger twin asked.

“Yeah, weird,” Rin said. Yukio’s deadpan look made it obvious that wasn’t enough. “I mean, she was carrying around this stack of papers and she didn’t even think about it. Normally she’s so on top of things and would be able to at least take a break for dinner, but she didn’t even seem like she was going to eat.”

Yukio paused, taking a moment as Rin chopped the onions. “I wonder… Maybe she’s received some new kind of responsibility. That’s as viable as an option as any, Nii-san.”

Rin perked up a bit, wanting to smile, but still felt conflicted. “What kind of responsibility?”

Yukio sighed, and Rin considered backing off. Yukio had been staying up later and later since they had come back from Kyoto and had even been eating less. Rin didn’t want to be the one to give Yukio any more worries than he had to handle already.

“I don’t know, Rin,” Yukio answered, the exasperation evident in his voice. “There’s a chance it may be the type of responsibility she can’t talk about, no matter how much she wants to. That’s not really something uncommon for exorcists, you know.”

_Yeah, but I thought she trusted me,_ Rin thought. He bit his lip. There was no point in complaining to Yukio about something that wasn’t his responsibility. Right now, he was going to have to figure out how to deal with the problem on his own.

“My advice is to just ask her, Nii-san.” Yukio adjusted his glasses. “Wouldn’t that be the best way to find out?”

“Yeah…” Rin agreed. Being straightforward was something he could handle. The half-demon boy let himself smile, making sure not to let the fried rice burn in the pan.

_Even when he’s busy, Yukio’s still looking out for me._

* * *

Shirou Ryouichi sighed and tossed his cell phone onto Yori’s bed and sat back down. The girl in question tilted her head, her eyes partially obscured by the glare of the lights on the lenses of her glasses. “What is it?” she asked, fingers hovering over her keyboard.

“Well, it sounds like we’re going to have to go through with this thing after all,” Ryouichi informed. When the confused look on Yori’s face didn’t go away, he smiled and continued. “It looks as if Faust-san came through, so Ayane’s got a date with this guy on Sunday.”

“She does? Wonderful!” Yori smiled, pulling her hands up to her chest. Ryouichi didn’t really share the sentiment, but he tried not to show it. However, that sort of thing wasn’t so easy to accomplish around Yori.

“Shirou-kun,” Yori said, leaning a bit forward in her seat, “you’re picking at your fingernails again. What are you hiding?”

Ryouichi pulled his hands apart, shoving them in his pockets. It was bad enough that he did that, but even worse that Yori could pick up on it so flawlessly. He had never been so glad that the girl had been given an exception to the roommate rule based on her social anxiety, since that reduced the chance of others finding out about his nervous ticks. The last thing he needed was for Ayane to know how to pick out his lies at a glance.

“Um, well, I don’t know about hiding…” he attempted, laughing a bit. It didn’t do away with his nerves or Yori’s stare. “Fine, fine, I’ll be blunt: I’m not so hot about this whole ‘Ayane goes on a date’ thing.”

As expected, Yori frowned a bit. It almost hurt for her to look so disappointed. “Weren’t you pushing this whole thing almost as much as Michiko-san was?” she asked. Ryouichi grimaced. He couldn’t deny that much. “I don’t understand, if you didn’t want Fukui-san to go on a date, why did you push it so hard?”

Ryouichi held up a hand to stop Yori, and she complied. “Okay, maybe I worded that wrong,” he admitted. That made Yori back off a bit, even if her eyes were still trained on him like a dog. Except Yori was too adorable to be intimidating, so she was more of an intent puppy. “I want Aya-chan to be happy and I want her to go for it. What I _don’t_ want is to be stuck with all the grunt work.”

Ryouichi hoped that was enough. Yori put a hand to her chin for a moment, staring off into space. “I see…” she said slowly, almost as if she was testing out the words. “I can see why that would be a factor, but that’s all the more reason then to make this work. Once Fukui-san finds out with this boy is into, she can plan her own dates.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Ryouichi allowed. He fell backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. In theory, it was the same as the ceiling in his room, bur for some reason it being in the girls’ dorm made it seem brighter. “Okay, enough serious business for now! Yori-san, you said you were gonna show me your artist’s work, right?”

Yori jumped a bit at the sudden question, holding a hand to her mouth. “Um, yes, but...” Ryouichi attempted to give her puppy dog eyes. “Shirou-kun, we’re supposed to be planning Fukui-san’s date, not fooling around.”

Ryouichi sat back up, leaning forward. Yori had brought a collapsible table into her room which was now holding their plans, so he wasn’t too much into her face. Even so, she looked uncomfortable. “Come on, just a short break. It’ll make me focus a bit more, I promise.”

“Alright…but only for a few minutes. I’ll send you the link later, so you can look at it then…” Yori stood up, walking over to the desk that housed her computer.

“Alright!” Ryouichi cheered as he followed. “Did they ever get any of those sketches back to you yet?”

“No, not yet,” Yori said. She pulled up her browser—Ryouichi was going to have to have a _serious_ talk with the girl about using Internet Explorer, but that could wait—pulling up a bookmark and waiting for the page to load. “Tochter-san said that they had some life problems come up, so there was going to be a bit of a delay…”

Ryouichi forgot his concerns about Yori’s computer’s specs. “Tochter-san?” he asked. “You mean, as in MepphyTochter-san? That artist?”

“Oh, you do know them, Shirou-kun, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Yori smiled. Sure enough, the web page that Ryouichi had gone through too many times to bother counting finally loaded on the screen. “But yes, Tochter-san’s my artist. Did I make the right choice…?”

Ryouichi was stunned. Had she made the right choice? That wasn’t even really a question. “Yeah, that’s even more amazing!” he answered. “Faust-san’s a really good artist, plus she loves stuff like this! She’ll be sure to put her all into it. Man, that’s so awesome, Yori-san. Way to go!”

Yori blushed, toying with the earpiece of her glasses for a moment. “Wait, Faust-san? As in the Headmaster’s daughter?” she asked.

“Yup,” Ryouichi answered with a nod. “I was totally floored, too. I mean, she’s just a high school kid, but she draws like a pro.” It was really amazing. He hadn’t been able to learn much else about when she had started learning, but really, her skill now was all that mattered. “That being said, you should meet up with her sometime. She’s really nice.”

Yori was still fidgeting. She probably didn’t even realize how obvious her own nervous ticks were. “I don’t know,” she said, voice quivering a bit. “Fukui-san was pretty clear that Faust-san is a bit... um…”

“No need to say anything.” Ayane probably had been using words that Yori didn’t have to repeat for Ryouichi to guess at. Honestly, that girl needed to learn some moderation. “I promise she’s nice if you have a common interest, plus it’s a professional project.” Yori looked down, putting her hands in her lap to still them. “If you want, I could help you out and go with you.”

Yori glanced sideways at Ryouichi, her pupils barely staying in range of her lenses. Ryouichi could sense her gratefulness, but at the same time knew she was probably just seeing right through him. “Alright,” Yori agreed, “but only once Fukui-san finishes her date.”

Ouch, that was a hard bargain. Ryouichi felt like he needed to accept, though. Any chance to talk to Margeret more was worth whatever risk, even if it involved managing a fussy Ayane.

Besides, just talking to her in the classroom had its limitations.

“Deal,” Ryouichi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. His fingers didn’t even come close to the pristine ceiling. “In that case, let’s get back to work.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Five

* * *

Mephisto let Amaimon out of the cuckoo clock early Sunday morning, and left the Earth King in his daughter’s custody after casting several spells. Amaimon was no stranger to his brother’s magic—their childhood had been interesting to say the least, and even though Mephisto had been the only one willing to put up with the then youngest Prince of Hell, there _were_ limits. After a few steps, Amaimon could already tell his speed and strength had been greatly reduced, but not entirely.

He decided to keep that information to himself. Mephisto’s daughter—_Whiskey,_ he had to remember—was clearly less skilled in detecting magic, and nodded her approval after just a few sniffs.

“Okay, let’s not waste any time on this,” Whiskey said, shoving a pile of clothes into her uncle’s arms. She then proceeded to dig in a bag slung around her shoulder, the colorful characters that Mephisto enjoyed blazoning the front. “I wanna make this as short as possible, so just get changed and don’t argue.”

Amaimon frowned. “Why do I have to?” he asked. Even if Mephisto had said to listen to the girl, Amaimon wasn’t ready to give in just yet. Besides, he _liked_ his clothes. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing now.”

Whiskey looked up from some papers she had pulled out of her bag and scoffed. “Yeah, maybe in Gehenna. But in case you’ve forgotten, you’re in Assiah now. Ordinary people are going to panic and so will Fukui-san if you show up covered in blood from Rin kicking your ass.”

Amaimon bared his teeth in a growl, readying himself to launch at her. He didn’t care if it would make things worse for him, tearing her apart would make him feel better, give him a sliver of his pride left, and then he could go after Okumura Rin and—

As soon as the thought descended on him, so did a feeling of nausea. He had missed the spell in its casting, and regretted every moment of it. His anger persisted, and so did the sickness, enough to bring Amaimon to his knees. It was one of Mephisto’s more advanced spells—not enough to control thought, but at least enough to discourage it.

“I suggest that you try and calm down, Uncle,” Whiskey said, a smirk on her face. “I did ask Vati to regulate you, after all. This way, you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried.” She placed a finger on Amaimon’s forehead. It was a ruse, but he tried to bite for it anyway, the quickest attack he could think of. The nausea grew stronger, forcing the Earth King to put a hand on the floor to support himself. “Try to relax, Uncle. You should get used to it.”

Amaimon snarled again, but didn’t bother to attack. That helped a little, and he was able to take a shaky breath. Mephisto hadn’t been joking around; he prioritized his students and his daughter more than his own brother. It stung a little, but Amaimon did his best to calm down, realizing things would get even harder on him if he didn’t.

Maybe if this went well, Mephisto would be less cruel, like he had used to be.

There was a rustling sound to break apart Amaimon’s thoughts. Whiskey turned her head towards a pile of plush toys on the bed, which were moving of their own attrition. “What the?” she said, moving closer and taking an audible sniff. As if on cue, the familiar hobgoblin emerged from the toys, one plush in its mouth. “Hey, that’s my limited edition _Persona 3_ Protagonist and Orpheus set! _Behemoth-chan!_”

Whiskey dived for the demon, only to have Behemoth scuttle past her and sit by Amaimon’s side. The Earth King smiled at his familiar, the hobgoblin’s antics enough to make him relax and have the effects of Mephisto’s spell subside. “Good boy,” Amaimon said, loud enough for Whiskey to hear.

She gave an impressive snarl for a half-human, faint purple wisps seeping into the air and bringing coal tars with it. Mephisto had tried bragging about his daughter’s abilities before, but Amaimon had tuned most of it out. The girl was able to absorb and summon demons in some ways, and had yet to gain complete control over her powers. That was all he needed.

“Drop the toy and I’ll give you these,” Whiskey said, gesturing to the small demons in the air. Behemoth perked up and Amaimon frowned—she had somehow managed enough of a relationship with the hobgoblin to be able to bribe him with food. That was going to be a problem.

As expected, Behemoth dropped the toy in favor of chasing the coal tars around the room, jumping to catch them in his mouth. Amaimon was tempted to pick up the toy and mess with it himself, but didn’t feel like hearing his niece whine about it.

Whiskey retrieved her toy, doing her best to clean it off of any slobber. “Ugh, guess it’s not too bad…” she said. She sighed before training her gaze on Amaimon. “You have a leash for him, right? I’ll take care of him while you’re on your date. I don’t think he likes Submission all that much.”

“Yeah, fine,” Amaimon grumbled. He didn’t see why Behemoth couldn’t just stay in the mansion, but guessed it had to do with avoiding any more damage to the residents’ trinkets. Really, Mephisto and his daughter were just too obsessed with the things.

“And get dressed, too,” she added, taking the leash after Amaimon dug it out of his pocket. The Earth King looked at his new clothes. They weren’t much different than his ordinary ones, but they smelled sterile without blood, like one of the human stores he had bought souvenirs from before. “Alright, Behemoth-chan, come here.”

Amaimon rolled his eyes at her coddling tone. She _had_ to have learned that from Mephisto. The girl tried to sneak up on Behemoth as the hobgoblin attempted to jump for some coal tar that had retreated to the top of the ceiling. Just as she was about to leash him, he jumped again, causing her to miss, and even landing on the girl’s head as gravity did its work.

The King of Earth allowed himself a small smile.

* * *

Ayane fidgeted outside of the meeting place Margeret had designated—a small coffee shop that wasn’t too far from the campus. True Cross Academy Town was large enough to encompass every single activity Ryouichi and Yori had managed to brainstorm the past few days. Margeret had apparently been aware of this possibility, and her chosen coffee shop was close to one of the tram stations. In the event that Amaimon’s interests led them to even the lowest levels of the town, it wouldn’t be too hard to get there.

Ayane felt a combination of giddy and nervousness. This was actually happening, a date with a guy _she_ liked and not just awkwardly pairing up with for the sake of Michiko getting a chance to find out who she was interested in. Discounting all the double dates and mixers Michiko had dragged her to, Ayane hadn’t really been on a proper date at all.

_Even so, this still feels stupid… I mean, sure, he looked cute and all, but I really don’t know a thing about this guy. What if the whole thing just ends up as a disaster? I guess it’s not like I need to see him anymore after this, but still…_

“Aagh, chin up Ayane!” she shouted. It was meant to be an internal motivation, but it ended up escaping her mouth. This was a common occurrence during tennis tournaments, so Ayane had stopped being embarrassed by it a long time ago. “Don’t give in! Just keep going and kick this date’s ass!”

It was early enough that not many people were out and about, so Ayane didn’t have to deal with more dirty looks than she could handle. Taking an extra deep breath, she started to relax more. Everything was going to be fine. Ayane pulled her phone out, checking the time before returning it to her pocket. Despite Michiko’s best efforts to send her friend out in a skirt, Ayane had managed to escape in shorts, a close enough compromise to make up for how frillier than usual her top was.

Maybe she had come too early. No, there were only ten minutes left until Margeret had agreed to meet, and being late would have just given the underclassman an excuse to call the thing off. Even though Ayane had successfully bribed her, something about Margeret gave off a weird feeling, like she could be more manipulative than expected.

“And there’s Fukui-senpai,” a voice commented, and Ayane turned her head. Margeret was walking down the street, still dressed in boy’s clothing. Right behind her was Amaimon, decked out in a torn up jacket and almost looking bored. As the two approached, Ayane realized that she hadn’t been able to see the boy from up close before, and blushed in response. This time, Margeret didn’t even bother to fake a smile like she normally did. “Fukui-senpai, this is my uncle, Amaimon. Uncle, this is Fukui Ayane-senpai.”

There was a silence as Amaimon stared her down, and Ayane realized that she should probably say something. His eyes were a brighter blue than Ayane had imagined, striking out from the almost dull tones of green that made up his hair. They were distracting.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you,” Ayane said. Internally, she winced. She had been trying to seem confident, and ended up stuttering before getting the first word out. Trying to get into the same mindset she had when she played tennis, Ayane smiled. “I’m glad we finally get to meet each other.”

It was an honest display of her feelings, which was met with an almost uninterested stare. Margeret glared at her uncle, whose eyes wavered to his niece before returning to Ayane. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, and the words sounded clumsy, like they didn’t quite fit in his mouth or outside of it. Margeret gave a satisfied nod, almost like she was giving approval. Amaimon sighed, sounding relieved, but not looking it in the slightest. “I’m hungry…”

“Well, don’t bother telling me that,” Margeret grumbled. Maybe that had been why the girl had refused to let Ayane meet Amaimon. Judging by their limited conversation, they didn’t have the best relationship. Before the family rivalry—_or whatever this is_—could get any more awkward, Ayane took a step forward.

“If you want, we can eat first,” she said. It wasn’t certain, but _something_ about Amaimon’s deadpan expression seemed to light up at the words. “I mean there’s a café right here, but there’s plenty of other places to eat in town. What kind of food do you like?”

She was rambling, but Ayane didn’t care. Anything had to be better than dealing with the animosity practically seeping into the air right now. Almost like he had just remembered Ayane was there, Amaimon turned his head towards her. “Hm…I want something sweet,” he said.

“Well there you have it,” Margeret said, sounding even more disinterested than her monotonous uncle. Almost like she was dusting dirt off, the girl clapped her hands together. “I’ll leave you two be for now. And Uncle, don’t you forget what Vati said, alright?” She smiled, and it was sweet enough to make Ayane shudder. After everything over the past few weeks, this was completely different.

_Why do I get the feeling that she’s up to something?_

Amaimon pouted at the words, the corners of his mouth tilting down. Ayane was missing boatloads of context, but she pushed the principal’s daughter out of her mind. Whiskey was leaving, which meant she and Amaimon were alone. Sure, he wasn’t saying anything, but there was a chance he was just shy. That left it up to Ayane to be the social one. It was a bit awkward, but she could manage it.

“So you said you wanted something sweet, right?” she asked. Amaimon nodded. The Michiko in Ayane’s mind prompted her to add _Then what about me?_ but she almost gagged at the thought. Looking into the café window, Ayane realized she recognized this place. Yori had taken her there once, and it was pretty decent food for not being expensive. “Why don’t we go in here, then? It’s pretty nice.”

“Alright,” Amaimon said. Just like that, he went to walk in the store, Ayane having to follow behind him.

It was early enough that the café didn’t have a line, so Ayane took her time scanning over the menu. Even if she had been here before, she hadn’t been paying too much attention. Amaimon was staring down the menu with some sort of fascination, biting on one of his abnormally long fingernails.

Really, it was too damn hard to focus with him standing so close. Ayane kept noticing tiny little details, like how his eyebrows furrowed while he was thinking. She hadn’t been wrong in thinking he was cute from afar, and the same applied up close, though there was a definite edge to him that Ayane couldn’t quite place where it came from. It just _existed_.

It didn’t help that she didn’t eat much sweets, either. They were good and all every now and then, but throwing herself into tennis had also affected her diet. The last time she could remember actually eating something dessert related was at Ryouichi’s birthday party and that had been months ago.

_But he’s the one who suggested sweets, so it’s not like I can say I dislike them. Though it’s not like I _do_ dislike them._ Ayane repressed a sigh. _Well, I’ve been training hard, so a little indulgence can’t hurt. This is a special occasion after all._

“I’ll have one of the strawberry Danishes, please,” Ayane decided. The strawberries would possibly balance it out in some way, even if it probably had some syrup to disrupt that. Ayane had to remind herself that today was not the day to worry about kilocalories.

“Of course,” the cashier replied. “And you, sir?”

“Hm, I guess I’ll take two slices of chocolate cake, one of the red bean paste cakes, and one of those fruit things,” Amaimon ordered, his nail tapping against the glass on one of the displays. His voice sounded a bit more excited than before, though it wasn’t by much. He let out a short hum, glancing at Ayane. “Oh, and Aniue said so, so I’ll pay for her, too.”

Amaimon’s finger pointed to Ayane, and the girl in question blushed a bit. Sure, it was good manners, but she hadn’t expected to have such a small bill covered. It was enough to put the concerns for how much dessert he had ordered out of her mind. “You don’t have to,” she protested, reaching for her wallet. “I have plenty of money, so…”

Amaimon stared at her, unblinking. “But Aniue said so,” he repeated, as if that made all the sense in the world. Somehow, too, he made the anachronistic ‘brother’ sound completely natural. When Ayane didn’t say anything else, he pulled some credit card out of his pocket, the cashier accepting it.

“If you’ll just give me a moment,” the worker said, stepping aside. He gathered up the desserts in question from behind the glass, Amaimon’s eyes moving to watch. Soon enough there was a tray of sweets waiting, which Amaimon accepted. “Thank you for your patronage!”

Amaimon didn’t spend the cashier a second glance, making a beeline for one of the table to the side of the room. Ayane followed, sitting down across from him.

_Get it together, will you! This is nothing. If he wants to pay for you, it’s fine. Now say something!_

“So, um, thanks for coming out to meet me today,” she attempted. It was lame, but it was better than nothing. Ayane made a mental note to actually ask Michiko and the others for helpful conversation starters. She should have thought of that in the first place. “I know we haven’t met before, but I really do appreciate it.”

Amaimon looked up, curious, one of his slices of chocolate cake already gone and a few crumbs around his lips. He had attached the other cake slice to the end of his fork, but stopped moving it to his mouth at Ayane’s words. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I wanted to go outside, anyway, so this was as good as a reason as any.” And with that, he consumed the second slice of cake in one bite.

Ayane wasn’t sure how to respond. Judging by his words, he didn’t sound more interested in going out in opposition to who he was with. She wouldn’t be discouraged, though. This was to be expected given the circumstances. Taking what she could to keep the conversation moving, she said, “Do you normally not go outside much?”

She picked up her Danish, taking a bite out of the edge. It was delicious. Amaimon paused again to ponder, his fork hovering between the two remaining desserts. “I like to go outside. I’ve just had to stay in the past month.” His eyebrows twitched as he grimaced. Finally deciding, he took a forkful of his fruit parfait over his other cake. “Humans really are interesting. You just go to another country and all the food’s different. Though Western desserts are pretty good in their own way, too…”

It was a complete shift in topic, but Ayane just nodded. Whatever had made him need to stay inside was probably going to be prodding too far if he had changed the subject. True, she would be at a disadvantage talking about food, but it was probably best to just go along with it.

“I haven’t really tried too many foreign foods, but from what I’ve heard, that sounds right,” Ayane said. “I’ll be honest, I’m actually the kind of person that finds a few things they like and sticks with them.”

“Hmm, sounds boring,” Amaimon commented, not a single hint of malice in his voice. “It’s more fun to travel a lot and try all sorts of things. Though trying to pick up on all the languages is a pain…”

Ayane quickly swallowed her next bite of Danish. They were talking about themselves. Now they were getting somewhere. “So, you like to travel a lot then?” she asked, smiling a little. “I bet that’s interesting. I’ve only left the prefecture for tennis matches and I’ve definitely never left the country. Where all have you been?”

“Huh?” Amaimon shrugged. Ayane tried to pull back her enthusiasm a bit. If she bombarded him too much with questions, it would make her seem pushy. Scaring him off by trying too hard wasn’t really a good idea. “I don’t really remember all of them. I just went wherever Aniue said I could.”

Again with the Aniue. The last time Ayane could even think of hearing the word was in some movie Ryouichi had made her watch, and that had been some period story set a couple of centuries ago. Even if it meant that Amaimon was treating his brother with respect, it still sounded odd.

“When you say ‘Aniue,’ do you mean the Headmaster?” Ayane guessed, not knowing who else it could refer to. For all she knew, there could be other brothers in the family, but Margeret had referred to Amaimon as her uncle. That at least meant there had to be some relation between them, so it was as good as a guess as any.

“Headmaster?” Amaimon repeated, the word once again sounding foreign on his tongue and only a few nuances away from being completely mispronounced. Already, the last of the cakes were gone, and Ayane wasn’t even finished up with her Danish. “Aniue is Aniue,” the boy said before standing up.

Ayane wondered if she had gone pale the instant her heart rate lost its usual rhythm. Getting this worked up wasn’t good for her when she was supposed to be at rest, but the normal regulations her body abided by had seemed to not be bothering for the day. However, Ayane was able to let her breath out once she realized that Amaimon had simply returned to the counter for another round of sweets.

_I…I thought he was leaving!_

Getting tired of her frayed nerves, Ayane made herself settle down. She didn’t think anyone was rude enough to just leave like that, but she wasn’t sure. Still this date wasn’t going to be any fun if she didn’t relax. Waiting for the cashier to finish preparing Amaimon’s latest order, Ayane did her best to try and come up with a new topic of conversation while chewing through her Danish.

When Amaimon sat down again, his new tray contained five desserts. Ayane didn’t bother to identify them since they would probably be devoured within minutes. There wasn’t a point in trying to figure out his tastes, either, since it seemed like he liked almost anything so long as it was sweet.

“So, I’m just guessing that you didn’t grow up in Japan?” Ayane tried. Amaimon nodded as he chewed through his first bite, nearly taking out half of one of the cakes he had ordered. Ayane let herself relax. It wouldn’t have been a big blunder if she had assumed wrong, but it was still nice to be right. “So did you just travel a bunch of different places when you were little or did you stay in one place?”

“I didn’t start traveling until I was…” Amaimon trailed off, his eyebrows scrunched up in thought, a frown forming on his lips. Ayane waited patiently and licked the crumbs of her Danish off her fingers. “…Well, I was at home a while before that.”

Ayane nodded in understanding. Still, if he wouldn’t remember exactly when something big like that had happened, he must have been pretty young at that time. Either that, or traveling was so commonplace to him that starting it didn’t seem like that big of a change. “Still, it sounds exciting. Where did you grow up then?”

“Gehenna,” Amaimon answered before scowling. He put his fork down, like the last of his desserts hadn’t been to his tastes.

_Gehenna, Gehenna… Where’s that?_ Ayane repeated the name a few times internally, trying to see if it jogged any memories. She could have sworn that Margeret and her father were European, but Gehenna didn’t sound like any place in Europe that Ayane had studied. Then again, there were plenty of small, obscure countries that weren’t common knowledge, so maybe this Gehenna was one of those.

“Do you know other places to go eat here?” Amaimon asked. His expression was strange combination of hopeful and slight annoyance, though Ayane didn’t think—she _prayed_—that it wasn’t directed at her. Still, she nodded. Even if the girl didn’t know herself, she was sure Ryouichi and Yori were capable of coming through if she sent them a text. “Aniue said the town had lots of places to eat, and I’ve been to a few of them, but I definitely haven’t tried them all…”

“Well, we can go to whatever kind of place you want,” Ayane said with a certain amount of confidence. After all, this ‘Aniue’ was correct, considering True Cross Town could probably feed extremely picky people from almost every nationality if you knew where you were going. Trying her best to smile, the expression faltered as she looked back to Amaimon’s second tray. “Though, before we go, aren’t you going to finish what you got here?”

Amaimon’s eyes followed Ayane’s finger to the piece of cake in question. “Ah, I guess it’s bad to waste food.” Amaimon frowned, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure what you were supposed to do with cake, despite having just eaten several pieces. Without warning, he pushed the small plate towards Ayane. “You can have it. I’m not in the mood for sweets anymore.”

Ayane didn’t even have the stability of mind to thank him or to worry about her dietary regimen. Borrowing the boy’s fork, she took a hesitant bite, letting the taste mull over her taste buds before swallowing.

It may have been because it was technically a ‘gift’ from Amaimon, but Ayane thought it tasted delicious.


	6. Chapter Six

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Six

* * *

“So let me get this straight,” Shima said, and Rin couldn’t tell if the other boy was joking or not, “you tried to get Whiskey-chan to come over for dinner the other day, but she shot you down. So, instead, you asked me to come and hang out today instead? Just what are you trying to accomplish here, Okumura?”

Okumura Rin groaned midway through flipping around the contents of his stir-fry. It was bad enough that he had barely been able to scrape together the remnants of last night’s dinner into a suitable lunch, but he had already gone through the least-relaxing summer ever, had to deal with his ordinary classmates starting to see demons, and—as already mentioned—Whiskey had shot him down for lunch _again_ in addition to not talking to him much lately.

“It’s cause Bon and Konekomaru study too much, and you _know_ that Izumo wouldn’t join me for lunch if it sounded anything like a date, which it’s not,” Rin retorted. Satisfied with the condition of the vegetables in the pan, Rin moved them onto the already set out plates before checking on the rice cooker. “Besides, you seem to deal with girls a lot, so figured that maybe you’d have an idea what to do.”

Without meaning to, the half-demon boy blushed a bit. It was stupid, but none of the others seemed to be good choices to go to for advice. The best option would be to ask Ruma and Mocha about their friend, but experience had made it very clear that the two girls weren’t exactly built for the sake of keeping secrets. So, Shima was the next best thing Rin could think of on such short notice.

Shima chuckled from the window between the kitchen and the cafeteria that served as Rin and Yukio’s dining room. “Well, I guess so, but you forgot the part where you’re too chicken shit to ask Shiemi,” he allowed, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. “Though I really think you should just go for it and ask her out if that’s what this is all about. That’d be way easier instead of pining on the sidelines.”

“That’s not what this is about!” Rin protested. Finally satisfied that he had set up the plates for lunch well enough, he balanced one on each hand and headed towards the table. Shima lessened the weight by taking his own tray, and the boys sat down across from each other. “Besides, I don’t even think she likes me that way. Sure, she didn’t run away from me when everyone found out I was Satan’s son, but I think that’s ‘cause she’s half-demon, too.”

“Dude, seriously?” Rin looked up to Shima, who snickered into his bowl of soup. The pink-haired boy set his dish back down before leaning back in his chair. “Listen, you won’t know for sure unless you go for it. At least with a girl like Whiskey-chan, it’s not like you’re gonna scare her off.”

“I _said_ that’s not what this is about,” Rin grumbled, inhaling his stir fry before he even brought his sentence to a proper close.

Shima held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine, I give. Then just what _is_ this supposed to be about, Okumura?”

Feeling less on edge, Rin sighed. “She just seemed stressed out the last time I talked to her, like something was bothering her.”

“Well, we did just come out of a big giant fight in Kyoto,” Shima reasoned. Having sampled all his food, the boy proceeded to hone in on the fish Rin had repurposed from breakfast. “Plus she takes her work pretty seriously, too. I bet she’s just trying to juggle too much on top of cram school, just like Bon and Konekomaru have been doing. Maybe she has some weird family circumstances going on, too.”

“I guess.” It didn’t matter how much Shima’s words made sense, Rin still didn’t buy them. Whiskey had been so blatantly honest before, and hadn’t hidden anything she had been feeling back, even when they were in Kyoto. Something must have happened to make her start to shut herself up. And since she had supported Rin before, he wanted to support her to pay her back for her kindness.

Shima sighed. “Alright, it’s pretty obvious that you’re not convinced, so listen up.” Rin perked up a bit, listening to his friend. “I still think you should be direct about what’s bothering you. Why don’t you call her and ask how she’s feeling? Sometimes girls just need someone to offer their help because they can be too stubborn to go and ask for it. And even if she doesn’t give you a direct answer, you’ve still opened up, so she may come to you later. Sound good?”

Rin nodded, his tail flicking through the air. For Shima, it sounded surprisingly well thought-out—and, as a bonus, it seemed like it would work, too! Maybe not immediately, but Rin would still take it. It was better than sitting around and doing nothing about it at all or wallowing in self-pity.

“Alright, so get to callin’!” Shima prompted, enthusiasm abound in his voice.

Rin spluttered, almost choking on the slurp of soup he was taking. “Wh-what, right now?!”

Shima nodded with vigor. “Yeah, right now. No time like the present! Besides, if you sit around on it too long, you might chicken out, so you gotta do it while I can make you. Oh, and I can listen in, too, just in case you need any extra advice,” he continued, sounding more like he just wanted to eavesdrop than genuinely help.

Still, it wasn’t like Rin had much choice, anyway. Shima really _would_ pester him until Rin did it, and if that kept up everybody else in the Cram School would find out, too, and it would just be one giant hassle. Resigned, Rin pulled his phone out of his pocket with the hand that wasn’t holding his chopsticks and selected Whiskey’s number out of his contacts.

On Shima’s insistent smile, he pressed the speakerphone button, and the pink-haired boy leaned closer across the table.

The line rang a few times, and Rin worried that he would get stuck with Whiskey’s voice mail instead of the real deal. However, the line crackled to life within seconds, Whiskey’s breathing and the sound of nearby music amplified by the speaker as she answered.

_“Hey, Rin-kun, what’s up? Everything okay?”_

She sounded worried. Rin didn’t blame her, given that it seemed like every corner turned just lead to more trouble with the Grigori and the True Cross, but he was supposed to be checking in on her, not worrying her. Across the table, Shima made a hand gesture that was clearly telling Rin to get on with it, and the half-demon boy cleared his throat.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just wondering what you were up to,” he said, trying his best to sound casual. He thought he pulled it off okay, though Rin would have to ask Shima about it after he hung up. “I figured since it’s the weekend you’d have some free time to maybe come over for dinner or something.”

_“Nngh, yeah, sorry about that,”_ Whiskey said, sounding apologetic. For a moment, Rin let himself hope. _“Sorry, though, I got dragged into some errands today downtown, and I don’t know how long they’ll take. Hopefully I should be free after today, though, so we can get together some other time this week if that’s cool?”_

Shima mouthed, _Ask her what she’s up to,_ through the beginnings of a smirk. Rin turned away, purposefully ignoring him. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he said instead, and Shima frowned a bit in his peripheral vision. “We can talk about it at school tomorrow, okay? I’ll let you get back to your errands. Call me if you’re free though.”

_“Yeah, I’ll do that,”_ Whiskey said, just as the sound of something that sounded like a trashcan getting knocked over came through the line. Rin flinched away from his phone at the sound, putting it at arm’s length. _“Ugh, what a pain in the ass! Sorry, Rin, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”_ Not saying anything else, she hung up, and Rin did the same.

“Dude, what was that?” Shima immediately jumped onto asking. “You were supposed to ask if something’s been bothering her, not try and invite her over to dinner!”

“I-I panicked, okay?!” Rin protested, dropping his phone to the table. “I thought if I was too forward she’d get suspicious, and then I’d just be in even more trouble later. Ugh, I’m such an idiot!” Feeling defeated, Rin hit his head onto the table next to his lunch, making sure not to hit it beforehand.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Rin adjusted so that his chin was on the table’s surface, not feeling ready to sit up yet. Shima sounded more like he was telling himself to relax than anything, but Rin listened anyway. “We can still save this. I mean, she sounded pretty vague about what she was doing, right? I definitely agree now; Whiskey-chan is hiding something.”

“Yeah, so?” Rin didn’t get what Shima was getting at. What good did confirming there was a secret do if they had no idea what the secret _was_?

Shima grinned, seeming completely confident. “She told us where she was, right?” he asked, and Rin nodded. “So, all we gotta do is go and follow her and see what she’s up to. It’s a cinch!”

Rin sat up, ready to go before it hit him. “Dude, no, she just said she was downtown,” he said, and it felt odd to be the voice of reason. “This place is huge. There’s no way we’d be able to find her with just that to go on.”

“Ah, but while _you_ were listening to Whiskey-chan,_ I_ was listening to everything else. Didn’t you hear that jingle when she answered?” Rin blinked. Shima had thought to _listen_ for something like that? “At the very least when she picked up, she was by Ponchan, so as long as we get moving, there’s only so far she can go in the fifteen minutes it takes to get there. If we spread out, we could find her easy. Though it would be easier if we had a few others…”

Rin frowned. “But that’s, like, spying on her and invading her privacy and stuff.” Sure, he wanted to know what Whiskey was up to, but stalking her wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. Still, she sounded frustrated when she had hung up, and there had been that crash… What if she was hurt?

Shima stood up. “You really do wanna know,” he observed. “Let’s get going, then. If we wait too long, we could lose her.”

Without a second thought, Rin stood up and headed for the door.

* * *

Hanging up her phone, Whiskey yanked as hard as she could on Behemoth’s leash, removing the Hobgoblin from the trashcan he had jumped into, although not without a plastic bottle in his mouth and assorted trash everywhere. With a sigh, Whiskey summoned a few more coal tar to distract him with. At this rate, she was going to run out of her reserves, and she hadn’t taken in any smaller demons lately.

Seriously, she had taken in so many coal tar during the fight with the Impure King, and Behemoth had already eaten through most of them! Just like his owner, the Hobgoblin was a real pig.

And concerning Amaimon, Whiskey was just about done with following him around the entire damn city to restaurants and cafés she hadn’t even _known_ existed, and even more surprised that Fukui was still putting up with it. And with a smile on her face, too! Just what was so fun about getting dragged around by Amaimon and watching him stuff his face every five meters?!

“I’m gonna get a headache at this rate…”

Whiskey leaned against the wall, trying to keep her distance while still being able to check in on Amaimon and Fukui in the window across the street. While Mephisto had said that she was to make all the arrangements for the date, he had never said she needed to follow along, especially given that he had put the necessary spells on his brother. Whiskey couldn’t let herself do that, though. For all that she trusted her father, the girl could never trust anyone alone with the King of Earth.

He was _dangerous_.

“This is stupid,” Whiskey muttered to herself. “Really, why is Vati even bothering with this? He can’t be serious about making Fukui-senpai an exorcist. If he was, he would have made a simpler way for her to get a Temptaint, especially with all the extra demon activity going on lately. So what _is_ it?”

More than she would admit, it frustrated Whiskey that her father was hiding something from her, even if that was how he had always been. Even worse, there was no real way to change Mephisto’s mind, unless there was an emergency. And as much as Whiskey wanted the situation to be over with, she would never wish injury on Fukui.

_Nothing like that’s ever going to happen again._

With a whine, Behemoth lightly pawed against Whiskey’s leg before tugging on the leash. Blinking, Whiskey realigned herself with reality. There were still plenty of coal tar around, and through the haze they created it was a bit hard to see what the Hobgoblin was really after. Down the street, Amaimon and Fukui were moving on, only making it past a few storefronts before entering another. Tugging a bit on the leash to slow Behemoth down, Whiskey stood up straight.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, following the couple down the street. “The only thing I can do right now is move forward.”

_Besides, whatever Vati’s planning, it definitely isn’t going to stop._

* * *

Without any concern for the weather other than his parasol-familiar to block out the sun, Mephisto Pheles reclined in a bright pink and purple beach chair above the downtown shopping district of True Cross Academy Town, watching the progression of Amaimon and Fukui Ayane’s little…_excursion_.

“Oh, Whiskey-chan,” he said, the words mixed with a wistful sigh. “You really are as reliable as ever. Although, my dear, you really shouldn’t be so worked up over things that are just games. If you get too serious while you’re too young, you’ll waste whatever gifts of creativity and flexibility you have far too early.”

As it was, Mephisto was perfectly aware that his daughter—or anyone else for that matter—couldn’t hear him. To be honest, it was more for his own benefit that he was even bothering to talk at all, when it was considered. Then again, it was just like people to think too hard about what they were experiencing instead of appreciating what they could be learning.

“Although, it seems like Fukui Ayane-chan still has some things to learn about the world, too,” he continued, shifting his focus to his student. “As it is, she’s almost too trusting, too naïve, even for her age. In fact, I’d say that she’s someone that isn’t trying hard enough to find her place in the world, most likely because she’s convinced she’s already figured it out.

“As for Amaimon…”

For the first time that day, Mephisto’s smile dropped a bit. It was a bit too early to make any definite decisions about how things were progressing on that front. The King of Time hadn’t really expected any developments so easily, but it was still frustrating to not even be able to make a clear assessment.

“Oh, but what’s this?” Mephisto sat up, at the same time changing the angle of his chair. Despite the fact that he was now at a ninety-degree angle over the ground, Mephisto didn’t look concerned, a grin spreading across his face. “Well then, this is certainly interesting. There appears to be some new players in this little drama of ours…”

On the streets below, Okumura Rin and Shima Renzo had arrived.

* * *

“Okay, so we’re here,” Rin said. They were lucky enough that Ponchan was holding a sale at the moment, and the boys had been able to scrape up their spare change into getting a few snacks. Rin took a bite of his egg-curry-monja, hiding behind the large cardboard sign advertising the sale in front of the shop. “So what now?”

“Well, first we gotta find Whiskey-chan,” Shima said, his mouth full of monja. “Or ask around and see if anyone’s seen her go through. Some real detective work, you know. Though I think if we look around, we should be able to find her without much trouble.” Shima leaned around the sign, almost squishing Rin—and his monja—against the back.

“Yeah?” Rin asked, sounding just as skeptic as he felt. “What makes you say that?”

“My intuition with girls,” Shima declared. He managed to sound perfectly serious, too, and it was all Rin could do to keep his laughter at the level of a snicker. “Eh? Hey, man, look sharp.” The tone in the pink-haired boy’s voice switched to somewhat serious in a few seconds, and Rin tried his best to peak around the sign. “There’s a Hobgoblin over there, and he’s a big one at that.”

Sure enough, there _was_ a Hobgoblin in the street, and he was _huge_. Rin stiffened, feeling the experience from his past battles automatically honing him into taking down an enemy. He distributed the energy into shoving the rest of the monja into his mouth. Sure, he wanted to prevent any trouble, but he was still on probation for execution. One wrong move and the Grigori would have his head.

“Hey wait, is it on a leash?”

Rin snapped back to attention. Shima was right. While the Hobgoblin did seem to be running around in a haphazard cloud of Coal Tar, it wasn’t causing much trouble. Did that mean it was tamed? Still, there was only ever one “tamed” Hobgoblin that Rin had ever run into…

The person attached to the other end of the leash waved a hand, shooing some of the Coal Tar away. It was a good thing that Rin had already swallowed his monja, otherwise he might have choked.

_Wait, but what’s Whiskey doing with Amaimon’s—?_

“Whoa, no way. That’s Fukui Ayane-senpai!” Shima exclaimed, probably blowing their cover. Rin tried to hush his classmate, pulling him back behind their makeshift camouflage. _What’s this idiot thinking? He _knows_ Whiskey can hear better than other people!_ Shima stared at Rin’s hand over his mouth and blinked. The pink-haired boy nodded once, and Rin let go. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe that I saw Ayane-senpai in person, let alone actually out on the town. In casual clothes, too!”

“Okay, _what_ are you going on about?” Rin knew Shima was obsessed with girls, but this was ridiculous. What if he had just wanted to come out and look for Whiskey for the chance to pick up girls? “You’re not making any sense, Shima.”

Shima laughed and scratched the back of his head in what was probably a chance to sound apologetic. “My bad. I guess you don’t know about Ayane-senpai, then, do you, Okumura?”

Rin shook his head.

“She’s an upperclassman and a powerhouse on the tennis team,” Shima explained, the sort of smile on his face that _only_ happened when he was talking about girls. “Plus she’s pretty cute, too. Of course, she devotes all her time to practice, so seeing her anywhere but at school or on the court is unheard of. And while her tennis uniform is super sexy, I just saw in her casual clothes. What a treat. Oh man, I gotta get a picture!”

“_Huh?_” Rin couldn’t stop the word from spilling out of his mouth. “Whoa, hold up. We came here to see what Whiskey was up to, not—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Shima reached his arm out around, phone in hand. “We can get back to that in a moment. It’ll just take me a second to get a pic of Ayane-senpai, then we can get a move on.” Rin groaned. “Besides, Whiskey-chan’s just down the street. It’s not like we’ll lose her!” Shima pressed the enter button, and the sound of the phone’s nonexistent shutter went off. He pulled back his hand, checking the results, and Rin looked over his shoulder in exasperation. “See, perfect! Huh?”

Rin blinked. “What the hell is she doing with Amaimon?!”

* * *

Mephisto laughed, having to hold his belly. Really, Rin was always one of the most amusing students that the older demon could play with, and he hardly failed to disappoint. Letting his laughter die down to a chuckle, Mephisto wiped a bit of moisture away from the corner of his eye.

“Well, this is certainly a dramatic turn of events,” he commented, drumming the fingers of his free hand against his chair. “And so early on in the story, too. I wasn’t ready for something like this already, but I suppose I won’t complain. It does make things more interesting in the long run, so long as the boys don’t stir up any unnecessary interference.

“However.” Mephisto snapped, the click of his fingers bringing Shima and Rin to a freeze amidst their panicking. It might cause a scene if their time was stopped for too long, but it would be enough for Ayane and Amaimon to leave before Rin could start a fight—or worse, a _scene_. “I’m afraid you boys are a bit too early to be useful at the moment. You’ll have to wait a bit more before you can play your part.”

The duo taken care of, Mephisto turned his attention back to Whiskey. “And it looks like you’re adapting as well, my dear. What a good girl. Of course, I think we’ve spent a bit too much time on analyzing the bit players in this story…”

Unnecessarily, Mephisto took off his hat and twirled it in his hands, flourishing it as he spread his arms out. “So then!” he announced to absolutely no one. “The most important moment of all!

“Let’s check in on our protagonists, shall we?”

* * *

Ayane took a deep breath, but she was smiling anyway. After a whole day of running around and sampling something from every store—and she _did_ mean _every_ store—in the downtown restaurant strip, she was exhausted. It was still enjoyable, though, and every second of it had been great, even if some of Amaimon’s statements were a bit confusing.

Plus the entire endeavor had only been possible thanks to Amaimon’s seemingly endless wallet.

And, finally, at the end of the day, they made it back to the café by the station where they had met. Ayane had to lean against a lamppost to catch her breath—today had just as much of a workout as any tennis training camp—but Amaimon seemed perfectly fine as they waited for Margeret to come and pick him up.

“So,” Ayane said, suddenly feeling nervous all over again. She had been fine once she had gotten into the swing of things, but what she wanted to ask was only making speech difficult all over again. Amaimon looked at her, and Ayane swallowed. “I was wondering if you wanted to this again. W-well, not exactly this exact thing again, but going out again?”

Amaimon tilted his head like she had said something strange. He proceeded to stare at her, too, but Ayane had gotten used to that. Every time she asked a question it had been like this, so Ayane knew she had to just wait it out. In the end, Amaimon shrugged.

“Sure.”

* * *

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Whiskey grumbled, dragging Amaimon along with her. It was too much of a hassle to manage the Earth King and Behemoth at the same time, so she had given it up and absorbed the hobgoblin for the time being. Surprisingly, Amaimon came along effortlessly. It was good, too, since all Whiskey wanted about now was to take a long, warm bath.

”_Guten tag!_” Mephisto called, floating down from a nearby rooftop, his umbrella unfurled. Relieved, Whiskey gave herself the opportunity to let go of her uncle’s arm. If Mephisto was here, the chances of Amaimon doing anything without being edged on decreased favorably. “It seems like you two have had a busy day. Your thoughts, Whiskey-chan?”

“Never again,” Whiskey said, allowing herself to sit down on a nearby bench. Mephisto smiled, amused. “Of course, I know that’s impossible. But at least next time I’d like it if I could have some help instead of _babysitting_ all on my own, Vati.”

Mephisto’s umbrella closed, and the man tapped it against his shoulder. “Hm, some help, huh?” he mused. Whiskey didn’t hold her breath. Knowing her father, she wouldn’t know about her help or lack of it until the last minute. “Well, I suppose I can consider that. Taking care of a budding couple is no easy task!”

Whiskey could have puked at the thought.

“But,” Mephisto continued, “there will be plenty of time to plan for the future. So instead, let’s take a moment to appreciate the recent past, shall we?” He grinned, putting a hand on Amaimon’s shoulder. “So? What did you think?”

Amaimon looked up to his brother, the end of his thumbnail creaking against his teeth.

“It was fun.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Seven

* * *

Ayane couldn’t even say she’d tried to reign in her excitement in the aftermath of her date; once she’d recovered her energy and given her somewhat burning legs a rest by zoning out on her bed, the squealing had come out. Sure, she’d been considerate and screamed into her pillow as she kicked her legs through the air, but she couldn’t help it. She’d not only gotten a date with Amaimon, but he’d seemed alright with going out again. And while it wasn’t dating, it was _progress_, and she would take whatever little advantage she could get her hands on.

Giving a silent apology to her pillow for unleashing another scream into its surface, Ayane could feel the pure heat building up in her cheeks. Hell, she even let out a giggle. _He said we could hang out again. That totally counts!_

Sure, he hadn’t had the most excited expression on his face; he hadn’t even smiled. But she’d learned over the course of the day that Amaimon didn’t smile at much—not even the sweets he consumed at a breakneck pace—so she wasn’t about to take it personally. She’d also learned the expression he made when he didn’t like something when he’d accidentally eaten something sour, and he hadn’t made that twisted, nose crunched up face when she’d made the offer, either.

_I don’t give a damn how much Faust-san disagrees,_ Ayane thought, whacking her mattress as she flailed about, _I will get my second date!_

“Considering that you’re acting like you just won a ticket to Nationals again, I’m going to guess your date went well, darling?”

Ayane froze mid-flail, halfway through a fist pump, as she looked up to see Michiko standing over her. In casual clothes of a tasteful cerulean skirt and white blouse, she seemed way more at ease in her outfit than Ayane had in her own. The two stared at each other for a moment, with Michiko donning an amused smile. Considering one of their other roommates could have easily walked in on the situation, Ayane would take it.

“Holy crap, Michiko-chan, I think I’m gonna die!” Ayane said, all the overblown excitement she’d been trying to peg down throughout the entire day bursting out in one fell swoop. She rolled herself into a sitting position, almost bouncing on the mattress. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was actually a ton of fun. Sure, he’s a bit quieter than I expected, but we went around and tried out a lot of different restaurants downtown and, and—”

Though she hadn’t been planning to, Ayane proceeded to spill out a thorough recount of her day within the span of a few minutes. Michiko didn’t ask her to shut up once, just nodding in all the right places. Once Ayane finally stumbled over her words enough to need to catch a breath, Michiko took advantage of the pause to sit down on the edge of Ayane’s bed. “Goodness, I never thought I’d get a pile of girl talk out of you, Ayane-chan. How fortunate I am to see this day…”

Ayane snorted, tossing a halfhearted smack into Michiko’s shoulder. “Don’t get used to it,” she said, even though she had to admit that Michiko almost had a point. With Ayane’s date ensemble, the two of them did look like some girlfriends about to settle down for a sleepover and chatting about the boys they liked. “Now that I’ve gotten all of that out of my system, I can return to my regularly scheduled bouts of cynicism and tomboy activity.”

“Fine, fine. I should be thankful you humored me at least once.” Michiko’s attempt at a serious expression didn’t last very long, and the two shared a short laugh. Still chuckling a bit, Michiko swept one of her dark curls over her shoulder. “But I am glad you had a good time, darling. I was a bit boring since you were going out with some stranger, but it looks like you had a nice time.”

“Well I knew how to handle myself from all that practice you put me through on group dates with all the weirdos you like.” Michiko stuck out her tongue, and Ayane adjusted so it wouldn’t be easy for her friend to reach the pillows as ammunition. “In all seriousness, though, it wasn’t high pressure or anything. I mean, it was a date, but we didn’t do anything wild. Just talked and ate a lot of cake.” Way too much cake, not that Ayane thought about in retrospect. She wouldn’t tell Abe that, though.

“Aw, nothing juicy to share? I was hoping for you to bring back a story about a kiss at the very least.”

Ayane flushed instantly at the words, her imagination already running way too far ahead for her tastes. She forced the train of thought to a halt before she could go much further than imagining if Amaimon tasted like all the sweets he devoured—and before Michiko could manage to read her mind with annoying accuracy. “I’d just met the guy. I dunno how well he’d react to me saying I wanted to kiss him.”

“Ha! So you did want to!” Michiko pointed a triumphant finger, and Ayane knew there was no point in denying it. It was a damn good thing that Ryouichi was no where near the conversation, because Ayane wasn’t in the mood to get into _that_ mess. “You’re getting more forward by the day, Ayane-chan. There may be hope for your love life yet.” Michiko leaned closer, her glittery eyeshadow adding an extra sparkle to her eyes. “Even if you didn’t kiss that doesn’t mean you can’t tell if you guys had chemistry. Well? Is it true love?”

Ayane scooted back to reclaim her personal space (she’d learned the hard way that one did not simply touch Michiko’s carefully arranged outfit or hair without consequences). “I dunno about that sort of thing, but I do really like him.” Michiko could be a romanticist all she liked; Ayane found that pragmaticism matched her much better. The mellow response didn’t do anything to prevent Michiko’s excited squeal, though. “And I mean… Amaimon-san’s kind of quiet, but he said he was alright with going out agai—_gak!_”

Michiko had tackled Ayane in a celebratory hug, leaving the latter’s windpipe struggling to remember how to properly function. “I’m so happy for you, darling! Anyone with half a brain would be able to tell just how incredible you are, so I’m glad he’s at least worth that much. You go, girl.” It may have been a bit of an excessive reaction, but Ayane was glad for the support anyways. It felt nice to share her joy with someone else. Michiko pulled back to show off her grin, and her hands stayed planted on Ayane’s shoulders. “I absolutely must be in charge of your wardrobe for the second date, too—no exceptions! Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes, Michiko-sama.”

“Excellent.” Michiko nodded twice for emphasis, propping her hands on her hips. “And as thanks, you will do me the honor of introducing me to your tennis captain! I’d say that’s a fair trade, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh my _god_, Michiko-chan.”

* * *

By the time Whiskey made it back to her dorm room, she felt thoroughly exhausted. She’d ensured that her father had Amaimon tucked away somewhere that he couldn’t cause trouble (frankly, with how frayed her state of mind was, she didn’t care _where_ that happened to me), released Amaimon from the bounds of her Submission, and wandered back home with all the vitality of a zombie. Ruma had been considerate enough to read the mood and allow Whiskey to take a bath and pass out in bed without an interrogation.

The next day was a different story.

“I can’t believe the Headmaster actually let Amaimon back out like that,” Ruma said for what had to be the twentieth time since Whiskey had given her roommates a quick report on what happened—an impressive feat considering they hadn’t even left their dorm to head to classes. Whiskey was just as frustrated with the whole situation, but she focused on neatly finishing up packing up both her regular and cram school bag. “I mean, wasn’t the mess back over our training camp enough for him? That damn demon went ballistic.” The fact that Vati had likely been aiming for that exact outcome didn’t make Whiskey feel any better.

“Hm, it is definitely strange,” Mocha said, finishing tying up her caramel colored hair into their customary twin tails. It was surprising she was taking it as well as she was. “But you said he didn’t hurt anyone, right, Whiskey-chan? Not even Fukui-san?”

Whiskey finished snapping the clasps of her bag shut and nodded. “Yeah, nothing bad happened. I mean, Behemoth-chan was a pain in the ass, but it was normal.” Whiskey checked herself over in the mirror, making sure her tie was on straight and the collar of her shirt wasn’t sticking up to try and quell the feeling of unease stirring in her chest. As a half-demon herself, she knew that not being human wasn’t an automatic disqualification from acting just like everyone else—it was just that she’d never seen that side of Amaimon before. He’d always been feral, ready to tear people apart to satisfy that animalistic craving in him that was far more suited to Gehenna than human society.

To tell the truth, it almost scared her how smoothly things had gone, and she hated herself for wishing something bad _had_ happened so that she wouldn’t have to feel so disquieted by the reality of the situation.

_All I’ve ever wanted was for things to be ordinary. So why can’t I accept that this is okay? Why can’t I just let it go?_

“Yo, Whiskey, you alright over there? You’ve been staring down your reflection for like a solid three minutes.” Whiskey blinked, recognizing Ruma’s words as truth, and tore herself away from the mirror to grab her bag from its waiting spot on her desk. Though her face had been twisted up in frustration before, crunching her freckles into tightly packed constellations, Ruma still had enough empathy to give Whiskey a look of concern. “Sorry, I know that me bitching about this probably isn’t helping, since you’re the one that’s directly dealing with this bullshit. I just think this is dangerous; I don’t want what happened to me and Mocha-chan to happen to anyone else.”

“Ruma-chan,” Mocha said, and there didn’t need to be an end to that sentence to tell that, underneath her usual chipper attitude, Mocha was still worried; she’d just placed her concern onto Ruma’s wellbeing over her own issued that she’d started to move past.

“You don’t gotta apologize,” Whiskey said, walking over to Ruma and clapping her on the shoulder. “I know this is a mess, and I wanna knock this off as much as you do. I just know that if I don’t take care this, Vati will make someone else do it—one way or another. But whatever he’s trying to plan, I won’t let him hurt you guys or anyone else.” _Not anymore._

She hated that she needed to include that mental addendum most of all.

Ruma sucked in a breath, then pumped both of her fists in a determined pose that would’ve looked great on a shonen heroine. “Right, I know you mean that, Whiskey! Countin’ on ya!”

“So long as you don’t wear yourself out!” Mocha said, making sure to follow Whiskey’s lead to leave for class on time. With a determined pout on her face, Mocha gave Whiskey the best glare she could muster. “Both of you got a lot going on, so don’t overdo it. I don’t care if this side project gets involved; you can’t help anyone without taking care of yourself.”

“Mocha-chan’s right!” Scrambling to scrape together her own bag, Ruma caught up with Whiskey and slung her arm around Whiskey’s shoulders, the bulge of her forming muscles way more apparent than they’d been at the start of the year. “I don’t care if your dad’s hot or not, Whiskey—if this gets out of control, I’ll go give him a piece of my mind!”

And though Whiskey could have done without the first part, she appreciated the sentiment anyways.

* * *

“Alright, it’s time to give that clown a piece of my mind!”

No one would have questioned that Rin had just snapped—and that he’d snapped hard. The frustration had finally caught up with him in the middle of the lunch period, and he’s crushed the juice box he’d been holding as he shouted. It was only because he’d sat his yakisoba roll down that it escaped the same fate. Across from him on the campus grass sat Shima, unable to hold back a snicker. Rin rounded on him next.

“What the hell’s so funny? You know this is serious!” Being in the street one second watching Amaimon walk around with some non-exorcist senpai and then being dropped back into his dorm room the next (fresh with a note from Mephisto that read _Apologies, this interference has been canceled!_ complete with stars and hearts scribbled on the page) had been a trip in its own, and Rin had finally wrapped his head around the stupid mess to decide what he was gonna do about it. “You know that having Amaimon running around loose is just an awful idea. People could get hurt!”

“Well, yeah, obviously, but even if you get so worked up about it nothing’s gonna change. Not to mention you’re gonna freak everyone out!” His eyes darting across the courtyard, Shima tried to wave Rin back into a calmer position. Rin didn’t _feel_ calmer, but he at least loosened his grip on his juice box. Shima sighed. “Look, man, I’m just as worried as you are, but do you really wanna let everyone at school know? That’ll just cause trouble on its own, even without how everyone in cram school would react.”

Rin grimaced. That wouldn’t be good at all. He didn’t want to keep it a secret, but he also didn’t want everyone to panic. There hadn’t been any news of the shopping district downtown turning into a slaughter, so things had to be _somewhat_ under control.

Right?

Rin groaned. “This is so stupid.” Shima gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his shoulder. “What’s Mephisto even thinking? People are gonna get hurt if this keeps up.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that, though.” The reminder didn’t do much to make Rin feel better, and Shima shrugged. “Listen, why don’t you just go ahead and ask Whiskey-chan about it? She was there. She’s probably gotta have some idea of what’s going on.”

Rin liked that idea even less. Whiskey had confided in him at Kyoto—she wouldn’t want Amaimon running around with some student who wasn’t even an exorcist, either. _But Shima’s right; she _was_ there. Sure, maybe it was a coincidence, but…_ It was just wishful thinking, but Rin would cling to that hope as long as he could. Shima’s stare wasn’t helping, much, though. “It’d just be awkward to ask her after she was so busy. I’m pretty sure she’s still avoiding me or whatever.” Sure, they were in different classes, but Whiskey usually stopped by to say hi at some point during the day. He hadn’t seen her at all.

_What if she was avoiding you because of this?_

The long stare Shima gave made it clear he was thinking the same thing, but he was kind enough to change the topic. “Well if you wanna pansy out with Whiskey-chan, that’s your problem, I guess. So, you actually gonna go bother the Headmaster about this?”

“Well I’m not just gonna let this go!” Rin picked up his sandwich again and shoved a large bite in his mouth. “Just ‘cause M’phisto runs th’ place doesn’t mean he can put innocent people in danger. Tha’s just—”

“If you’re talking with your mouthful, then I’ll have to teach you more etiquette than I’d expected.”

Rin sucked in a surprised breath that almost had him choking on his sandwich. He thumped his chest a few times to dislodge the food, then turned around. Behind him was a figure he hadn’t seen in some time: Mephisto’s small, white dog form, complete with the polka dotted scarf and exorcist clip. Somehow, he’d managed to contort his fluffy face into a look of disappointment.

“Mephisto!” Rin had enough sense of mind to reign his volume in so that he didn’t attract the attention of the other True Cross Academy students. That didn’t so anything to curb his frustration, though. “What the hell are you doing, letting Amaimon out on his own?” Rin hissed. “I know you were the one who dragged me and Shima away, and we want answers.”

“‘We,’ hm?” Mephisto said, somehow looking like he’d raised his eyebrows. “The only one I see jumping down my throat is you, Okumura-kun.” Rin started and glanced back over his shoulder, only to find the spot where Shima had been seconds before empty of everything, including his lunch. _What the hell, man?!_ “Well, no matter. This doesn’t need to be a conversation in public, now does it?”

Rin opened his mouth in protest, but a sensation that was becoming annoyingly familiar wrenched through his gut. Next thing he knew, he was in Mephisto’s office in all its extravagant glory. The sun outside shined in brightly through the windows, backlighting Mephisto as he sat at his desk, hands folded before him. He spread out a hand, as if welcoming Rin to the floor.

“Now, I believe you had some issue to take up with me?”

“Hell yeah, I do!” Rin closed what little distance there was between them to stand right before the desk and jammed an accusatory finger in Mephisto’s direction. “Shima and I went downtown yesterday, and you know exactly what we saw: Amaimon running around in broad daylight like he didn’t try to kill all of us twice!”

Mephisto laughed. Rin had expected as much, but that didn’t do anything to stop the fresh wave of rage boiling inside him—and neither did clenching his hand into tight fists. “Do you really think I’d go so far as to let Amaimon out without some sort of safety precaution?” Rin didn’t have a retort; at Mepphyland, Shura had been present; during the training camp in the woods, Mephisto himself had stepped in before things had gone too far. “I had someone watching out to make sure Amaimon behaved himself, and I even put a few restrictions on his power, as well. I don’t see the need to be so worked up.” Mephisto punctuated his sentence with a grin, adding to his smugness.

Rin felt himself tense up, and, though he’d just been enjoying his lunch, the last of his appetite had slipped away from him. “That doesn’t answer why he was out in the first place.” Even though Whiskey was acting distant, he couldn’t forget her story—and the thought of a repeat incident was something Rin didn’t want to see, either. Though Mephisto had to know what had happened, he didn’t seem to be thinking about the same things at all. “Shima recognized the Senpai that was with him, and she’s not an exorcist, right?”

“Shima-kun is correct. As far as I know, Fukui-san doesn’t even have a Temptaint.” Mephisto was acting so cavalier that Rin considered punching the man in the face, but that wouldn’t solve anything. Mephisto’s grin shifted into a smirk. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I said that I was simply doing Fukui-san a favor, now would you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t!”

“Too bad; that just so happens to be the truth.”

Rin threw up his hands. “Do you realize how stupid that sounds?” Even without a Temptaint, surely Fukui had to realize there was something off about Amaimon; he dressed like a Halloween reject for crying out loud! Giving up on acting civil, Rin smacked his palms into Mephisto’s desk. One of his anime figures shook but didn’t fall over. “If you were just gonna talk me around in circles, why’d you even bother to bring me here?”

Mephisto exhaled a dramatic sigh, but he didn’t bother to elaborate on whatever thought crossed his mind. “Not that I don’t find your attempts at pulling information out of me entertaining, but is this really what you should be focusing your attention on, Okumura-kun? You _were_ on probation with the Grigori, and you happened to break their rules in Kyoto. You may have been responsible for the defeat of the Impure King, but how much leeway do you really think you have to be running around like this?”

Rin grimaced. He hadn’t forgotten, but it was so much easier to live his life if he kept those things out of mind. Between the relief of getting his friends back and the adjustment back into the routine of his school days, Amaimon’s presence had seemed like a much more immediate threat—something far easier to deal with than any of the other handful of issues on his plate.

“There will be a meeting soon about what the Order plans to do with you,” Mephisto continued, filling in Rin’s silence. The idea of there being a sentence put down on him seemed too distant and too close at once to seem like reality. “I’d suggest that until then, you occupy yourself with ensuring your own safety. After all, you can’t do much to protect others if you’re not well yourself, can you?”

Rin didn’t even know where to begin with speaking. All he could do was give a nod and try to reign in the upheaval in his stomach.

* * *

Miyamoto Yori opened the door to her dorm and groaned when she realized none of her roommates were there. Yes, it was the norm for the others to be out for cram school lessons, but she had still hoped there would be someone there to provide a buffer between her and her thoughts. She felt fatigued, but at the same time she knew that lying down wouldn’t get her anywhere. Locking the door and pulling the curtains shut, Yori tried to switch her brain into writing mode as she changed from her uniform.

It took a bit to get her frazzled mind together, and the connections of plotlines didn’t make the paranoia seeping inside her go away fully, but it was enough. Not wanting to think about what she had seen outside, Yori started her laptop, plugged in her headphones, loaded up an online ambient sounds channel, and let herself slip into the familiar rhythms of tapping out all her worries on the keyboard.

The process didn’t make the rest of the world go away, but it did help channel the collage of negative emotions inside of her. With each character Yori put on the screen, the more she moved her story forward, the better she started to feel. She got into such a familiar rhythm that she didn’t notice the time flying by, and then her phone was buzzing with the familiar alarm to get ready to meet up for dinner.

_Whoops, got caught up in that a bit too much._

Making sure she’d saved her work, Yori went about putting her laptop into rest mode and stretched. Her shoulders and back had gone tense from her hunched over position before the computer, but it was more than worth it since the heavy feeling that had rested inside of her vanished. Sure, she’d need to do a little extra work after dinner to prepare for her classes tomorrow, but it was better than feeling like the world outside was trying to consume her.

Shaking her head one more time to banish her thoughts, Yori stood up to head to the dining hall, checking notifications on her phone as she went. There weren’t too many, but Ayane had sent out a group message to Yori and Shirou-san earlier in the afternoon:

_Hey, I meant to ask, but I totally forgot! Do either of you guys have any idea where Gehenna is?_


	8. Chapter Eight

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eight

* * *

On any other day, Haruhana Mocha would have already been on her way to the cafeteria with Whiskey and Ruma for lunch, but that day had other priorities in place. No sooner than the teacher had wrapped up her lecture and the bell had rang, Mocha had already bolted from her seat and was en route to the next classroom over. She’d learned from dogged experience that Yukio was prone to go off on his own without anyone else and could very quickly become impossible to find until classes resumed—or even until his Demon Pharmaceutical lessons in the afternoon.

_Well not today, Yukio-kun! This time you’re going to hang out with me whether you like it or not!_

Did Yukio deserve some time to himself? Sure. But he also deserved not to isolate himself constantly, and that was exactly what he was doing. Mocha cared about her friends, so she took it upon herself to help out with the situation as best she could.

Mocha’s efforts were successful, and Yukio was the first one to emerge from his classroom next door. After a short fist pump of celebration, Mocha rushed forward with enough theatrics that there was no way he’d be able to miss her.

“Yuki-chan!” Yukio looked up at the sound of the nickname, quickly shifting his neutral expression into a polite smile. It couldn’t erase the faint bags starting to form under his eyes, though. As much as Mocha wanted to lecture him about the importance of taking care of himself, though, it wasn’t the time for that. “We haven’t been able to really hang out with each other since we got back from summer. You wanna eat lunch together?” Yukio looked hesitant for a moment, and Mocha added, “Not with Whiskey-chan and Ruma-chan. Just us.”

The furrow in Yukio’s brow eased a bit, and he nodded. “I suppose that’s alright, Mocha-san.” Mocha hated that they couldn’t all easily come together on the same page, but she’d take what she could get. “Ah, I didn’t stop by the dorm this morning, though, so I didn’t get to pick up a lunch from Nii-san. Would you mind if we headed to the school store?”

“That’s a-okay with me!” Mocha threw up a salute and followed Yukio as he led the way through the starting to form crowd of students. She clasped her hands behind her back and glanced up at Yukio again. “Though if you didn’t stop by the dorm, that means you were out for the night, right? Don’t tell me you didn’t get any rest.”

If he weren’t so polite in his speech, Yukio might have grunted. “I ended up having a late shift at the Order’s office yesterday,” he said, voice at just the right volume that Mocha could still hear, but his words would be lost in the surrounding chatter. “There have been lots of minor incidents and sightings lately. We’ve been busier than ever.”

Mocha dropped her own smile for a moment. “Even with the Headmaster’s barriers?” Yukio nodded, and Mocha frowned a bit. “It isn’t any particular kind, is it? Like a bunch of Coal Tars or something?”

“No, there aren’t any real patterns or anything.” Mocha kept herself from audibly sighing in relief. She’d intentionally asked about something different, but she’d been worried that Amaimon’s presence may turn into a substantial amount of Earth Kin crawling up through the cracks. Whatever was going on then wasn’t obviously connected to the Earth King. Yukio caught Mocha’s contemplative expression and pinched his brow. “Sorry, you invited me out to eat, not to hear me complain about my work problems.”

“No, no, I don’t mind at all!” Mocha gave Yukio an earnest stare that conveyed as much determination as she could possibly muster. “We’re friends, Yuki-chan. That means it’s perfectly fine for you to vent at me if you need to.” She reached the door first and held it open for Yukio and a few other students that passed through.

Yukio’s chuckle helped melt away some of Mocha’s concerns. “That may be true, but I am still your teacher. I can’t go dumping everything on my students.”

Mocha put on her best pout. “We’re friends first, Yuki-chan. I thought I told you that.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake.” Mocha nodded her approval, even though she knew Yukio hadn’t fully convinced himself that that wall was an okay one to take down. It was a lot like when she’d first met Whiskey—not that she’d tell either of them about the parallel. Ahead of them, students were already gathered around the school store, but it wasn’t enough to make the verifiable mob that could form. Leaving class early had some benefits to it. Yukio adjusted his glasses to look at the menu ahead of them. “But enough about me. How have you been, Mocha-san? Outside of cram school, naturally.”

“Oh, you know me. Just living my best life!” Yes, the whole situation with Amaimon was throwing some wrenches into the scheme of things, and it didn’t help that Ruma and Whiskey were more tense than usual, but Yukio didn’t need to be burdened by that—not when he was having a tough time of it himself. Mocha stood on her tiptoes to try and get a glimpse at what all the store had left in stock, though she didn’t have much success. “Class and cram school keep me busy, and Whiskey-chan’s been helping me and Ruma-chan stay on track.” _Whoops, I didn’t mean to bring up Whiskey-chan again._

“Pheles-san, huh?” Yukio said under his breath. The two had managed to reach some sort of compromise that didn’t involve unintentionally antagonizing the other, but there was still a cloud of tension over them from the start of the school year. “I don’t mean to pry, but has she had something else come up lately? Like another project or something?”

_I hate to lie to you, Yuki-chan, but you really don’t want to hear the answer to that._ “I know she went to spent some time with her dad a bit ago. I think they were having some family time together.” If you considered babysitting your violent, demon king of an uncle family time. Yukio started to frown again, and Mocha continued before his train of thought could get too far. “They didn’t really get to see each other too much over summer vacation, y’know? So she’s been out a bit. Why do you ask, Yuki-chan?” If he was starting to suspect something was up, that would turn into a mess of its own—and neither Yukio _or_ Whiskey needed that.

“Well, it’s just…” Yukio sounded like he was about to sigh, but he bit back the sound. “Nii-san’s been worried since she hasn’t been able to come over for dinner lately. So I was wondering if you could maybe pass that message along?”

Mocha pumped her fists and nodded. “Leave it to me, Yuki-chan!” As much as possible, she wanted to avoid any potential conflicts, especially since her circle of friends had expanded since the start of the year. Whether it was playing go-between or helping people let off steam, Mocha just wanted the people around her to be happy. “Message received, Yuki-chan-sensei! I’ll be sure to deliver it to its recipient as soon as possible.” With everything that was going on, Whiskey could use the reprieve of hanging out with Rin anyways.

“Thanks, Mocha-san. I appreciate it.” Yukio smiled, but he still looked tired. The person in front of them finished up their purchase, leaving open the way to the register. Yukio gestured forward. “Ladies first, Mocha-san.”

Accepting the chivalry, Mocha stepped forward to grab her lunch.

* * *

Having several years’ worth of experience as her best friend, Ryouichi had no problem telling that Ayane was still on cloud nine from her date. Her usual friendly fire of insults had toned down significantly over the past forty-eight hours, and there was hardly a moment where she didn’t have a happy blush on her face. She hadn’t even looked so excited when she’d earned her way into nationals the previous year.

_I don’t know what that guy did to get her, but damn he got her good._

Things hadn’t changed by the time dinner had rolled around, and Ayane was humming to herself as she tended to the meat. They’d decided to go out for yakiniku, and the usual quartet had surrounded the table, despite the heat rolling off the grill in the center. Michiko had already tucked into her rare-cooked pieces of meat, while Yori had an oddly intent look on her face as she watched the vegetables. Ryouichi didn’t trust himself not to burn anything, so he enjoyed the scent of frying beef and let the others take care of his portion.

“Has she been like this even when she goes back to the dorm?” Ryouichi asked, directing the question of Michiko. She picked up exactly on what he meant and nodded.

“Nonstop, darling. Isn’t it great how love effects people?”

“I’m right here, you know,” Ayane said, but there wasn’t anywhere near as much bite in her voice as usual. Ryouichi couldn’t tell if it was nice to see her acting somewhat softer, or if it just made him more paranoid that it was a prank. Clicking her chopsticks together, Ayane didn’t falter in her cooking duties, expertly flipping over a line of meat in a matter of a few seconds. “I think my good mood is beyond justified, considering you tend to get worked up whenever a new light novel release you like comes out.”

Yup, it was definitely a trap. “Have you _seen_ how amazing Elmer C. Albatross is? I’d die for that man.” Seated beside him, Yori nodded in agreement.

“Point being is that there’s nothing weird about me being happy about a date going well.” Ayane didn’t succumb to pouting, but an embarrassed flush that wasn’t because of the grill started to crawl up her neck. “Ah, dinner’s up, Ryou-chan. Gimme your plate.”

Ryouichi nodded and proffered the requested dish, his mouth watering as the smell of fresh grilled meat drew ever closer. He ducked his head and muttered a quick thanks for the meal before tucking in, glad for the opportunity to splurge a bit.

Yori took the opportunity to distribute her share of vegetables. “We really don’t mean to tease you so much, Ayane-san. I just think that everyone’s happy for you.”

Michiko carefully dabbed her napkin at her mouth so as not to smudge her lipstick as she nodded. “Exactly, darling. It’s such a rare event that we can’t help but getting worked up about it. Hm, though I’ll admit maybe our way of showing some excitement couldn’t use some class…”

Ryouichi swallowed and paused in inhaling his meat long enough to quip, “It’s not like you weren’t getting into it with everyone else, Michiko-san.”

“Oh, guilty as charged, I will admit. That doesn’t make it my finest moment, now does it?”

Ayane snorted midway to raising her glass of water to her lips. “You guys are impossible.” She downed half the cup in one gulp and let out a refreshed sounding sigh. Her lips curled up into a satisfied smile. “Well, I guess I fit right in that, too, so I’m glad you have you guys around.”

“Aya-chan’s going soft,” Ryouichi stage-whispered to Yori.

“Last I checked, Ryou-chan, _I’m_ the one cooking your dinner, aren’t I?”

Still holding his chopsticks, Ryouichi clapped his hands together in a prayer as he dipped low for a bow. “I humbly offer my apologies.”

“Dude, you’re gonna get your hair stuck in the grill!”

Yori’s giggle was so subtle it might have gotten lost in the din of the restaurant if Ryouichi hadn’t been sitting right next to her. He and Ayane exchanged the quick glances of a truce, and Michiko smiled as she started setting out a fresh round of meat over the fire. Once Yori had finished laughing into her hand, a light of recognition flashed in her eyes. “Oh, right! Ayane-san, I looked into that thing you asked me about yesterday!”

“Oh yeah, me, too!” Ryouichi said, brushing down his bangs to make sure he really _wasn’t_ about to catch his hair on fire. Michiko, who hadn’t been part of the group text, raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t interrupt. “I searched around a bit, and I found a lot of stuff from like the Bible? Like it’s some valley or something. What did you find Yori-chan?” They hadn’t had the chance to compare information yet.

“Mm, I found much of the same.” Yori fidgeted with her chopsticks and cleared her throat. “In the Hebrew Bible, Gehenna appears in the book of Jeremiah as a place of sacrifice. Later, it becomes cursed, and is mythologically a gateway to hell. The real-world valley is located in Jerusalem, and it’s now known as the Valley of Hinnom.”

Ryouichi reached over to pat Yori on the shoulder. “That’s our Yori-san for you!”

“While I’m impressed that you can remember that much off the top of your head, darling, I’ll admit I’m a bit lost.” Michiko propped her elbows on the table and leaned the slightest bit forward. “I’d guess that this had something to do with a game you two are playing if Aya-chan wasn’t the one asking.”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Yori said, munching on one of her grilled vegetables.

Ryouichi caught onto Ayane’s increasingly red face and have her a shit-eating grin. “Go ahead, Aya-chan, why don’t you tell them why you were so curious about what Gehenna was.” He’d had the same question and already heard the answer, but it was so much more satisfying making Ayane admit it out loud.

Ayane looked like she was considering tossing of the empty plates across the grill at him but seemed to think better of it. “I wanted to know,” she said, her voice bordering on a mumble, “because when I asked Amaimon-kun where he was from, that was his answer.”

Ryouichi couldn’t hold it in anymore—he let out his splutter of laughter. Yori’s eyes went wide, and she must have mis-swallowed, because the next second she was trying to chug down her tea in reprieve. Michiko used a hand to cover up her smirk, but it did nothing to muffle the amused “_Oh my_” that came from her lips.

Predictably, Ayane snarled. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!”

Michiko was the first to regain her composure; Ryouichi and Yori were having problems catching their breath, though for completely different reasons. “All apologies,” Michiko said, not able to completely restrain her smile. “It’s just a bit adorable that he decided to tell you that he’s from gateway to hell. Especially at this age.”

“I can’t believe you fell for a chuunibyou,” Ryouichi said, still snickering every other syllable. Ayane’s glare wasn’t the worst he’d ever gotten from her, so it didn’t deter him in the slightest. “Super serious sports star Fukui Ayane falls for some punk chuunibyou who thinks he’s some demon prince or whatever. Miracles really do exist.”

“Ah, yes,” Ayane said, raising her voice in a deadpan tone as she continued to stare daggers across the table, “Shirou Ryouichi’s second year of middle school. Goodness, I remember it well—”

Ryouichi threw up his arms. “I surrender!” There were several potential ends to that sentence, and he didn’t like a single one of them.

“Still, I’m sure he was just saying it as a joke,” Yori said, though she didn’t sound entirely sure. Michiko nudged Ayane in the side to get her to stand down, and Ryouichi let his hands fall back into his lap. Yori slowly rotated her glass. “Maybe he’s just really into the occult?” She didn’t say it, but there was a flash behind her eyes that seemed to be asking, _Are you gonna be okay with that?_

“Well, weird hobbies or not, it’s not gonna change anything.” Ayane looked back what was left on her plate and took her chopsticks back in hand. “I’m not saying he’s not eccentric, but I liked spending time with him. I like to think that my feelings aren’t weak enough to waver over something like that.” And as if to put the topic to rest, she stuffed a rather large cut of beef into her mouth.

_Yup,_ Ryouichi couldn’t help but think, _Mr. Demon Prince over there got Ayane good._

* * *

Amaimon woke up with a sense of pain weighing down his limbs. What was different was that it wasn’t the usual ongoing pain of the spears, but instead a dull thrum that felt like a faint bruise in comparison to that ongoing agony. It took him a moment to recognize that there was a hard, flat tile floor pressing against his back and that the world around him wasn’t pitch black. Yes, it was dark, but there was enough night light seeping in through the window that his vision had no trouble seeing what was around him, especially with the ambient, flickering glow that he’d learned to recognize as a television. Belatedly, the music and sound effects of some video game or another registering in his ears.

_Right, this is Aniue’s room._

It took Amaimon a moment to even understand why he was out in the open, rather than trapped back up in the cuckoo clock again. It didn’t help that he’d lost his patience and charged against Rin with his Heart bared, pushing past the limits of his host body—that should have been enough for Mephisto to punish him more, to not let him out again…

And yet there he was.

Amaimon stared up at the shadowed form of the domed ceiling, listening to the sounds of Mephisto’s video game and enjoying the reprieve from the pain. Sure, he enjoyed fighting, but getting hurt wasn’t fun when you couldn’t struggle against it. Complaining would be stupid. So he just lied there and simmered in his anger that was still there, unrelenting beneath the surface of exhaustion, losing track of how much time had passed.

“Don’t tell me that you’re just going to sit there and pretend you’re not awake,” Mephisto’s voice said from somewhere in the dimness. Not wanting to turn the dull thrum of pain in his neck into an all out ache, Amaimon flicked his eyes to the side, seeing Mephisto sitting in a beanbag, dressed in his yukata. A game controller was in his hands, and he wasn’t even bothering to look at Amaimon. “Where was all that energy you used to launch yourself at our dear younger brother earlier?”

It was a trick question; Mephisto had to know exactly the condition Amaimon’s body was in. “Don’t feel like it,” Amaimon said, his tongue working slowly. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded more tired than usual. He wanted some sugar to perk himself up, but it was too much effort to reach for his pockets.

“Goodness, I _did_ warn you not to go so overboard earlier.” It didn’t matter how lighthearted Mephisto’s voice sounded; Amaimon knew better, that there was frustration and anger underneath the surface. He’d screwed up again. “And yet you went and even brought out your Heart of all things. At this rate, we won’t be able to keep that host body of yours together.”

“I’m still in one piece,” Amaimon muttered. He didn’t like to admit it—especially because it had made it wipe out in front of Okumura Rin—but maybe it was a good thing that his body hadn’t been able to keep up with his powers. His brothers’ lab didn’t exist anymore, and it would be difficult finding a suitable replacement host. “Hey, but things are changing, y’know? I can smell it.” In the air, there was an unmistakable stench of demons, and they were coming out in masse. Faintly beneath that, there was the scent of home.

Of Gehenna.

He still didn’t bother to look away from his Game, but Mephisto’s nose did crinkle. “Yes, you’re right. I’m certain that the Order will call on me to do something about it, but even I can only do so much. Of course, it’s entertaining either way, but I do loathe the thought that he’s managed to get a one-up on us.”

Whereas Amaimon had no qualms about letting his demonic aspects out, Mephisto had restrained himself over the centuries since he’d aligned with the Knights of the True Cross—that was why it was so startling to hear the shift in his voice, reaching closer to a deep growl in his otherwise human looking form. Considering that the topic was their eldest brother, though, that much was to be expected.

Remembering the fragile (if not slowly healing) state of his own body, Amaimon decided to leave that minefield be. “So now what?”

“Hm?” Mephisto’s tone shifted back to jovial in an instant—back to sounding like he was the only one who knew the punchline of the joke. In the glow of the television screen, his grin widened to show off his teeth. “Well Okumura-kun will be busy with his homework for a while, and I’ll likely be helping the Order deal with this mess, so it’s looking like my schedule will be rather packed.”

The idea of the King of Time having a packed schedule was ridiculous, but Amaimon’s mind was too busy racing. Sure, it pissed him off that he wouldn’t be able to fight Okumura Rin again and prove his worth as a warrior, it was more concerning that Mephisto would be going to assist the Order. There wasn’t a place for Amaimon there, so the only option would be—

_Back into that darkness._

As one of the Princes of Hell, a little bit of dark and pain wasn’t enough to unnerve Amaimon. What got to him was how it stretched on forever, how _boring_ it was. Amaimon would have gladly taken on hours of agony if it happened in anywhere else but that absolute isolation, cut away from the rest of both Assiah and Gehenna, his own personal torture chamber.

Mephisto had chosen that punishment knowingly.

_I don’t know how to make Aniue happy anymore._

As demons, their ideas of happiness and family were beyond skewed. But there had been a time, long, long ago, where Mephisto hadn’t been like that. Considering how long ago it had been, maybe Mephisto had forgot, but Amaimon hadn’t. Amaimon couldn’t, Amaimon wished—

There was a snort at his side, and Amaimon realized there was enough presence in the room. Behemoth had been lying beside him the whole time, and the Hobgoblin let out a snore as he rolled over onto his side, the yellow of his hide looking almost sickly in the dimness. It completely slipped Amaimon’s mind that he’d been upset with his pet for acting subservient to that girl—his niece.

Letting out an exhale of his own, Amaimon sat himself up. If he was going to go back to confinement soon, then he wasn’t about to waste what little time he had with free motion. He’d recovered enough that his still recovering body didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary, and the shifting air over his skin reminded him of how he’d torn up his clothes in his transformation. He taste of blood—unsatisfying because it was his own, and not someone else’s—still coated his tongue.

He was tired of it.

Amaimon shoved his hands into his pockets, seeing if any snacks were still there, but none seemed to have survived the last two fights he’d been in. Sure, Mephisto probably had some sort of treats lying around, but rummaging through his brother’s things wasn’t a smart move, either. Without anything else to distract him, Amaimon bit down on his thumbnail hard enough for it to creak.

And then a thought occurred to him, one that he deemed safe enough to say out loud:

“When can I see Ayane again?”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Nine

* * *

The taste of Whiskey’s cafeteria bought lunch only served as a reminder that, in all the chaos, she had completely forgotten about the promise she’d made to rendezvous with Rin. In all fairness, the chaotic mess of the “date” with Fukui-senpai and Amaimon hadn’t helped her memory, nor had the hectic rush of school that had come after. On top of all that, her sharp nose had been picking up the ever-growing scents of demons, which just served to upset her sense of taste even more. It didn’t matter that True Cross Academy employed five star chefs; to her, everything tasted like mud and ash.

Across the table, Mocha managed the task of staring with concern straight at Whiskey. The loud bustle of the student body around them prevented the ongoing look from being straight up creepy, but it was a bit unsettling to watch Mocha continue to eat while not once looking down at her plate. It was one of her patented strategies that Whiskey _still_ hadn’t figured out how to counter in the past few years of their friendship, and the task of resisting was even harder since Ruma had made other plans for the period.

Whiskey cracked and dropped her fork into her carbonara when Mocha had been watching for long enough to almost make an audible _giii~_ sound effect. “Mocha-chan, do you really just plan to keep staring this whole time?”

“Yup.”

“You know you could just _talk_ to me about whatever’s on your mind, right?”

“I could, but Whiskey-chan’s way too stubborn for her own good.” Mocha twirled her own chopsticks around her fingers and winked. “If I straight up ask you what’s wrong, you’ll say nothing. But now that you’ve broached the topic, I can make you open up way easier! Don’t make me pout for it.”

Whiskey rubbed her temples and shook her head. “You really don’t have to do that.” It tended to start with pouting, but Mocha could easily turn on the waterworks if she needed to—and Whiskey was way too emotionally weak for that trick not to work. “I’m just…really stressed. And tired. I thought things would calm down after Kyoto, but we just walked right into another mess.” Considering how hectic the first part of the school year had been, Whiskey didn’t know why she’d wished for anything even remotely ordinary to happen, but she still had gotten her hopes up.

Satisfied with the response, Mocha finally stopped her staring contest and went back to eating her lo mein like a normal person. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been getting into one of those ‘run yourself into the ground’ kind of moods.” Whiskey grimaced; Mocha was right. “It’s always studying something or organizing something or even cleaning out the cram school classrooms! You gotta slow down, you know.”

The sad part was that it wasn’t even the first time Whiskey had heard that lecture. “I know, I know.” Whiskey sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I wouldn’t mind just hanging out with you and Ruma-chan, but, well…” Though Ruma was perfectly justified in her frustration about Amaimon, her presence for the time wasn’t quite relaxing.

Mocha’s nervous laugh was evidence enough that she was thinking roughly the same thing. “Yeah, I don’t blame you for that one. Don’t worry, I can take care of Ruma-chan.” Whiskey just hoped that Ruma would burn herself during their next cram school missions—or that Vati would realize whatever plan he was attempting was ridiculous and he’d call the whole thing off. Slurping up a fresh bite of noodles, Mocha leaned forward with a grin. “I know, I know! Why don’t you go ahead and hang out with Rin-chan?”

“Eh? Rin-kun?” Yes, she needed to talk with him, and she had promised that they’d spend time together, but that wasn’t something she’d mentioned in the mess of everything, so why would Mocha suggest it?

“Yeah!” Mocha bounced, sending her pigtails fluttering. Without missing a beat, she waved her finger through the air to some internal beat. “Rin-chan’s been getting antsy since you guys haven’t hung out lately. _Besides_, I know you wanna see him and have some nice food. And then you can bring home the leftovers and I can have some for lunch, right?”

Whiskey snorted. “You’re so transparent, Mocha-chan.”

“I just want what’s best for you, Whiskey-chan! And some tasty lunch.”

“Just eat what’s in front of you, won’t ya?” Whiskey used her finger to push Mocha back by the forehead, to which she stuck out her tongue. “Wait a second, why’d Rin-kun go to you instead of just talking to me?” Surely, she hadn’t been that distant, had she? Normally they were more open with their problems—or at least the ones that didn’t involve her father letting her murderous demon uncle run loose.

For the first time in the whole conversation, Mocha completely avoided Whiskey’s gaze and pretended to watch a group of students coerce their friend into eating something overly spicy. “Well, it wasn’t actually Rin-chan who told me…”

Given that Mocha had started to poke her fingers together, Whiskey already had an idea of who it had been. “It was Yukio-kun.”

“Yup.”

Whiskey stuffed her mouth with some lukewarm carbonara to prevent anything rude from coming out. Though she and Yukio had settled their differences from the beginning of the year enough to be civil with each other, a part of her was still bitter for the things he had said then. It was better for her to keep her distance until she sorted out her own issues. _At least he’s looking out for his brother. That’s a good thing, right?_ Trying to get her thoughts in order, Whiskey continued to eat, but by the time she’d cleared her plate of all but the tiniest scraps, she hadn’t made any progress.

_Should I text Rin? Call him? Our classes are close to each other, so I could just wait for him. Some comfort food sounds really good, and he can relax while cooking. So as long as he doesn’t have plans, we should be able to—_

_Why am I overthinking this so damn much? _“This is just stupid!”

Whiskey smacked the table as she stood up, making her discarded form rattle against the empty plate. To Mocha’s credit, she simply continued sipping at her drink without so much as batting an eye. “Good luck, Whiskey-chan.” Whiskey was already partway across the cafeteria, but her ears picked up the sound anyways.

Her enhanced sense of smell came into play again as she opened up her awareness. Yes, it also enhanced the rampant scent of demons in the city, but picking up Rin’s distinctive burning smell of blue flames was easy. It only took a few moments to pick him out in the courtyard, along with Bon, Konekomaru, and Shima with him. After having powerwalked most of the way, Whiskey checked her pace as she approached. Shima caught sight of her first and elbowed Rin in the side. He jabbed Shima back until he realized that Whiskey was standing before them.

For a faint moment, a sense of worry wormed into Whiskey’s brain that maybe he didn’t want to see her and Yukio was full of shit, but she remembered his hopeful tone before she’d hung up on him Sunday and pressed forward. No matter how ordinary it technically was, getting worked up over an awkward situation with a friend was stupid when she’d fought so many demons and survived.

“Yo,” Whiskey said, raising her hand in a wave. She made sure to nod to the rest of the guys gathered around, though the stupid smirk on Shima’s face was more than suspicious. She let herself focus on the pretty azure color of Rin’s eyes instead. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten the chance to talk much since cram school classes have been canceled and stuff. But if the offer’s still open, I wanted to check if you maybe wanted to combine our meal budgets tonight?”

“Yeah, for sure!” Rin’s smile was far too dazzling. Even though he kept his tail tucked away during normal school hours, Whiskey could just imagine it happily wagging at the news. “Like I said before, I have a bunch of recipe ideas. I mean, we don’t have to go all out, but I can make whatever kind of feast you like.”

Whiskey felt her lips form an easy smile, the kind she hadn’t been able to have, even with Mocha and Ruma’s help. “Don’t worry about it. Like I’ve said, my stupid allowance better get some sort of use,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. It was the least she could do, after flaking out so many times, and Mocha would be beyond ecstatic about the potential for a few days’ worth of Rin-made bento. “It seems like we’ll be having cram school classes for sure today, so we can go ahead and go shopping after, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Rin put a hand to his chin, his lip jutting out in a slight pout of concentration. “Let’s see, if we go for beef as the main protein… No, wait, this is a great chance to have some seafood, too…”

Whiskey left him to it and gave a quick farewell before heading her way back to Mocha. Her advanced hearing made it easy to make out the start of Shima’s next comment to Rin, but she left it be. She had made some sort of progress, she could report positively once she made it to the cafeteria, and then the evening would be nice and—

_Teppen toraji yo wa tsuneni mujou  
Mirai no Yoshi ashi wa onore de kimero_

The fact that her phone was going off audibly even though she’d kept it to silent for classes was a big enough clue of who was calling, but Whiskey checked the caller ID. Sure enough, it was exactly who she’d expected, and Whiskey could only hope that whatever she heard wouldn’t completely upset her plans for the evening.

“Hi, Vati, what is it?”

* * *

Finished with a productive tennis practice and fresh from a quick shower to get the sweat off, Ayane finished changing back into her school uniform with the rest of her teammates. For once, Abe had managed to stop her before dragging anyone else into way too many practice matches, which meant she’d finished around the same time as anyone else. Finished securing her ribbon in a loose rendition of the proper form (it was just going to trade out for her casual clothes once she made it back to the dorm anyways), Ayane slung her bag over her shoulder as she waited for her phone to power up and headed for the exit.

Though the sky had turned a vibrant orange, there was still plenty of sunlight to navigate with. The team managers had already shut off the lights above the court, and there wasn’t even a stray ball to indicate that everyone had been playing their hearts out just a handful of minutes before. In her hand, Ayane’s phone started to vibrate with the assault of notifications, and she gave it a minute to catch up with the rest of the world before checking it.

“Oh, hey, I managed to catch you, Fukui.” With his team jacket still on over his uniform shirt, Abe managed to encapsulate the perfect sports aura, even though the summer weather hadn’t faded in slightest. His usually slicked back hair had fallen out of place during practice, and it seemed he hadn’t bothered to fix it. “We haven’t had an out of practice team bonding thing in a while, so a bunch of us were gonna go grab dinner together. You in, or do you have plans?”

Ayane’s default after practice was to break so she could meet up with her friends for dinner, then take some time to handle her homework before she started to zone out close to bedtime. While enjoyable, some time with the team was a welcome change of pace. “Sure, count me in. Just lemme let everyone else know I’ll be busy first.” With practiced ease, she flipped open her phone and started responding to the group chat while simultaneously trying to absorb what everyone had been talking about beforehand.

Before she could even press send or start to decipher some meme that Ryouichi had sent earlier, her screen lit up in an incoming call. She didn’t have the number saved, but it did have a familiar area code. Deciding she’d risk the chance of it being a spam call, Ayane answered and pressed the phone against her ear.

“Hm, is this Ayane?”

The moment the somewhat drawling voice hit her ears, Ayane’s somewhat calmed heartrate shot up into the stratosphere. She could feel the heat burning all the way up her neck to the tips of her ears, and she steadfastly turned away from Abe’s curious glance. Not wanting to make a fool of herself in case she was wrong, Ayane mustered up her composure to ask, “Amaimon-san?”

“Mm-hmm.”

If it were possible for steam to come out of her ears, Ayane was pretty sure that would be happening. _Amaimon. Is calling me. He called me. That’s a good sign, right? Oh, I think I’m gonna die._ Knowing full well that Abe could be a downright snitch when he wanted to be, Ayane cleared her throat as quietly as she could. “I don’t mind at all, but how did you get my number?” He hadn’t even given a hint at having a phone while on their date, and Ayane hadn’t had the courage to ask or even offer her contact information in the aftermath.

“Nn, I had Whiskey give it to me.” Amaimon sounded just as bored as ever—of not a bit disgruntled at the mention of his niece. Ayane could only thank the heavens for her stroke of good luck. _Way to be a team player, Faust-san!_ “I have the chance to go out again, so let’s go together.”

_That’s asking for a second date, right? Am I dreaming? Shit, shit, shit—_ Ayane couldn’t help but think about how long it had been since she’d visited a shrine and wondered how many offerings she’d need to make before she got any of her luck back. It was worth it. _Stop getting so caught up in your thoughts and answer him, nitwit!_ “I’d love to!” she said a bit too loud, then started to pace along the court in the opposite end of Abe before he could start to eavesdrop. “When are you free? I have tennis practice and stuff, but I don’t have any other big plans coming up.”

“Sunday. I’m allowed to meet up at the same time as the last one.”

“I’m ten-thousand percent free then!” She’d take a whole day off with Amaimon again, no matter _what _she had to kick out of her schedule. Amaimon hummed his agreement, and Ayane found herself resisting the urge to skip in an easily visible location. “I’m okay with just hanging out like last time, or we can do something else. Whatever you like!”

There was a faint _crunch_ from the other end of the phone, which Ayane guessed was Amaimon biting into a piece of hard candy. “I’ll think about it. Just don’t be late, kay?”

“I won’t. You can count on it.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Before Ayane could get a word in, Amaimon had already ended the call. Given his general lack of conversational skills, she wasn’t too offended by the sudden cut off. The next few moments, her brain struggled between registering her far too fast heartrate, celebrating that she had another date lined up, and realizing that she had the opportunity to add Amaimon’s number to her contacts. After several failed moments of multitasking, she strung her thoughts together long enough to register Amaimon’s number, finished sending the message she’d been typing up to Ryouichi and the others (with a few celebratory addendums), and took enough deep breaths to calm down and turn back around. Several other tennis team members had gathered around Abe, and every single of them was staring at Ayane with conspiring looks on their faces.

“So, Fukui,” Abe said, his grin easily the widest, “that little phone call you just got wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with why you were so worked up last week, now would it?”

Before Ayane could even protest that it was, once again, _none of his business_, a few of the third years had already captured her by the arms. They bombarded her with questions all the way through dinner.

* * *

“So you wanna remind me why I’m here eating dinner with you again?”

With everything that had been happening, Rin was growing _far_ too used to Shima’s unimpressed face sitting at one of the cafeteria tables in the old boys’ dorm. Rin tried to offer a plate of food as an offering (beef sukiyaki was the star), but Shima wasn’t buying it. His brown eyes looked almost dead as he continued:

“With all things considered, you shouldn’t _need_ me here. Last I heard, you and Whiskey-chan were gonna have a dinner party date. Hell, I was even _there_ when she asked you to hang out! So, do tell me, Okumura Rin, just why _Whiskey-chan’s nowhere in sight_?!”

His shout caused Kuro lying on the table to lift his head from his nap. Though bleary-eyed for a second, the smell of food was enough to make his nose twitch, and the cait sídhe stretched himself out as he pawed his way towards Rin. Rin had prepped a bowl for his familiar, too, and he sat it out as well. Seriously, why couldn’t Shima be appeased so easily.

“Listen, it’s not my fault that Whiskey’s dad called her off on some stupid summons from the Order!” Rin said. With his hands free, he could toss them to the air in exasperation. Whiskey had apologized and even gave Rin some money for food expenses, which solved the budgeting issue, but that act of kindness wasn’t enough to erase the gap that had started to form between them. Employing the very mature strategy of drowning his feelings in food, Rin dropped into his seat and picked up his chopsticks. “Yukio’s still not coming home at night, so it would just be me and Kuro here. I’d rather eat with a friend than sulk by myself.”

“While I’m not gonna fault you for that, can I just say you have the worst luck in the world?” Shima’s sigh didn’t seem to stop him from stuffing his face, though, and the satisfied _mm_ he let out did what it could to boost Rin’s mood a bit. “I swear, Okumura, if you’re not getting threatened with death, you’re having some real bad personal drama. Sucks, man.”

“Gee, thanks.” Shima was trying to be there for him, so Rin couldn’t fully commit himself to the sarcasm. He chewed his way through a bite of sukiyaki, thinking of how to adjust the recipe for next time. “What really sucks is the person who came to hang out with me can’t help me get my homework done.”

Shima jabbed a finger towards Rin. “I’ll have you know I got into this school on a scholarship! They don’t just do that for anyone who can’t pass some tests, you know.”

“Yeah, but your scores are just about as crummy as mine are.” Whiskey and Yukio were best for keeping him on track academically, but they’d both been so busy. Without them, he was falling behind in either his regular classes or the cram school ones—and sometimes both. Rin sighed, watching as Kuro continued to eat his sukiyaki with gusto. “Besides, even if you did score better, I don’t even know if you’d stick with me. The other day when Mephisto showed up you totally bailed!”

Shima didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed as he declared, “Listen, I saw a hot senpai and I had to try to get her number!”

“And how did that work out for you?”

“That’s not important!” Shima smacked the table a few times, and Rin knew it was _way_ more productive to let the subject go. After a few moments, Shima had worked out his energy and his tone had shifted back to normal. “Besides, you didn’t really need me for that, did you? I doubt that me being there would’ve gotten you any better results than him telling you to leave it alone.” As much as Rin hated to admit it, that was probably true. “Look, Okumura, I know you’re worried about this whole thing, but is it gonna do you any good to just stress yourself out about it?”

Rin frowned. “Are you saying we should just let Amaimon wonder around with that Senpai whenever the hell he feels like it?”

“Well obviously not.” Shima put down his chopsticks to dig through a bag of miscellaneous drinks he’d had sitting on the bench beside him and cracked open a soda before offering Rin his own choice. “There’s just no point in getting worked up about things you can’t go and change. Especially because we have this new Seven School Mysteries assignment or whatever.” Rin felt a little bit guilty for bringing extra work on his classmates because of his request, but it _was_ for Godaiin’s sake. “Man, this sort of stuff’s best for summer when you can do tests of courage. The Headmaster’s got his priorities in all the wrong places.”

Rin was too busy downing about half of his can of cola to offer a proper retort. The fizz on his tongue could only do so much, and it almost added to the unease in the pit of his stomach. “I’m just worried that we’re gonna have some mess again. It’s always one thing or another.” They hadn’t even been able to relax over the summer thanks to the Impure King. Rin was glad they had stopped the mess, but it still felt like he couldn’t even get in room to breathe. “Mephisto’s gotta be planning something.”

Shima sighed, putting on an expression that was just the slightest more serious than his earlier unamused look. “You’re way too nice for your own good, Okumura.”

“Hey, I cooked you that dinner _because_ I’m nice, you know.”

“And ‘cause you’re lonely. But thanks for the meal anyway.” Shima chuckled at his own joke. “I’m just saying you jump into things like a hero. Just watching you exhausts me. But—” He paused for a moment, as if holding his breath. Kuro let out a slight purr and looked up from his empty dish before starting to wipe his face with his paws. “I figured you were gonna get like this, so I went ahead and got something that will ease your worries.”

Rin blinked. “You did?”

“You bet I did!” Shima’s smile was broad, and he drew himself up straight in his seat. “Look, I don’t think we should stick our necks into any of this Demon King stuff, but I know you will anyway. And I don’t think we can _stop_ Mephisto, either, but that doesn’t mean we (or in this case you) can’t go ahead and at least keep an eye on things so you’re not having a heart attack.”

Rin’s mind started to race with the possibilities, but he’d never been very good at piecing things together. “Wait, you don’t mean…?”

Almost smirking, Shima held up a finger. “If you just keep an eye on Amaimon when he’s out with Fukui-senpai or whoever, you won’t have to stress about things turning into some sort of mess. And just in case Mephisto’s dumb plan goes awry or whatever, you can be there to take care of it. All you gotta do is know when and where it’s gonna happen.” _With the way he’s talking, then…_ Shima put his hand into a thumbs up. “And I just so happen to know when their next little get together is gonna be.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Ten

* * *

It was a bright and beautiful morning, and Shima Renzo would have rather been sleeping in. Between regular classes, cram school, and his _other_ activities, Sundays were a sacred period where there was no responsibility, simply sleeping in and enjoying some time to himself in the dorm as Bon and Konekomaru went about their up-tight, structured lives. The current Sunday, however, had no such leeway waiting for him, as Renzo stood outside the old boys’ dorm that hosted the Okumura twins’ room. Rin had wanted to use the opportunity to spy on Fukui-senpai and Amaimon to watch out for trouble, but there was one problem with that plan:

Rin was late.

Like, a good fifteen minutes late. Even though following Fukui and Amaimon had been his idea. And that Renzo had sacrificed his few blissful hours of sleep and relaxation to help. Sure, Renzo had agreed because he had his own reasons to be interested in the whole mess (more of Fukui-senpai’s casual wardrobe included), but that didn’t mean he was going to let Rin get away with flaking out on him.

_He’s not still pissed that I bailed when the Headmaster showed up before, right?_ Renzo wondered as he gave in and headed inside the building, making a beeline for the twins’ dorm. _Sure, Rin can lose his temper, but he’s not exactly the best at holding grudges or anything. Besides, this _was_ his idea._ After a few minutes of openly yawning as he climbed the stairs, Renzo arrived at room 602 and knocked on the door.

No response.

_Fantastic._

Trying to give Rin the benefit of the doubt, Shima waited a few moments before knocking on the door again. There still wasn’t any response. Rin aside, Yukio probably wasn’t around—not just because he’d be far more prompt in responding, but also because of the overtime he was working with the Order to handle the influx of demons running around. Not wanting to waste the energy on pounding the door in with his fist in case later events called for some exertion, Renzo pulled out his phone and selected Rin’s contact for a call.

The line connected quickly, but several moments of uninterrupted ringing still passed. Renzo was about to call the stupid thing off and maybe do some research on his own, but there was a click as Rin managed to answer, his hushed voice coming over the line: “Hello?”

“Dude, where the hell are you?” Renzo hadn’t noticed it before, but the old boys’ dorm didn’t have much in the way of air conditioning since most of the building wasn’t really in use, and there was just enough humidity left inside to make his t-shirt stick to his skin. “You were the one who insisted we go check on the whole Amaimon problem, but I’m at your dorm and no one’s answering.”

“Shit, sorry,” Rin said, his voice still coming in at a whisper. Renzo could hear someone speaking in the background, but it wasn’t loud enough to tell where Rin was at all. “Look, I know this is dumb, but I kinda screwed up on a quiz, and the teacher is making me do some remedial lesson junk.” Renzo resisted the urge to facepalm; they’d only been back in class for a few weeks, and Rin was still having trouble like that? Shima at least could pull off a month without any major issues. Maybe the Headmaster was pulling some strings in the background. “I’m still really sorry. Could you maybe keep an eye on stuff for me?”

Renzo held back his sigh through a practiced aloofness. “You want me to go ahead and stalk the Earth King on my own? Do you want me to die?”

“What? No!” It had just been a joke, but Rin was too busy rushing words out for Renzo to correct him. “You can take Kuro with you. If anything big goes wrong, send him after me, and I’ll come help—”

“Okumura-kun,” said a stern voice in the background that Renzo recognized as their math teacher, “is there a reason you’re on the phone blatantly ignoring the extra lessons that are here to help you pass?”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Rin rushed out before ending the call. Renzo stared at the end call screen on his phone for a solid minute, even though it wouldn’t change a damn thing. Crawling back into bed sounded more appealing than ever, but looking into what was going on with Amaimon would be beneficial for him in the long run—plus he didn’t want to hear Rin complain about it later.

“_Kuro_, though?” Renzo couldn’t help but groan to himself. The cat sídhe was decently powerful, sure, and he’d helped out with the Impure King in Kyoto, but that wasn’t really evidence for taking on a high-ranking demon like Amaimon. There was a meow, and Renzo looked down to find Kuro already padding his way up the hallway, looking excited to see some company. “Hey there,” Renzo said, even though he wouldn’t be able to translate the response, “Rin was supposed to help me out with something, but he’s busy. Wanna fill in?”

Kuro tilted his head and blinked, assumedly thinking it over. Then he let out a big meow and finished trotting his way over to Renzo, both tails raised high in anticipation.

_All things considered, we could have _way_ worse odds._

* * *

Ayane had hoped that knowing the first date had been successful enough to lead to a second one would be enough to assuage her nerves, but that apparently wasn’t the case. Her heartbeat was racing again, though the heat seemed to be staying out of her cheeks for the time being. Still, considering that she hadn’t even felt so worked up when she’d stood on the court for the _nationals_, it seemed a bit ridiculous that she would feel so flustered over something so simple.

_Michiko-chan surely doesn’t get so embarrassed when she goes out with guys. Oh, maybe that’s an unfair comparison since she has no shame, but she always manages to look graceful regardless. What sort of innate skill is that?_ Recognizing that she was just working herself up more over nothing, Ayane gave herself a light slap to the cheeks. _Just breathe and act natural, you moron! You’ve got this!_

Trying to ignore the fact that she’d already given herself a variation on the same pep talk five times already, Ayane scanned over the street of the same area she’d met up with Amaimon and Faust-san beforehand. Just like the previous week, the morning hour kept the potential for crowds to a minimum, and it was simple to spot the uncle and niece pair (not that anyone would have guessed by seeing them standing side by side) approach.

Ayane raised her hand in a wave, meaning to direct her attention to Amaimon first, but Margaret’s sloth-like gait and the dark circles under her eyes somehow took the priority. She looked like someone who hadn’t gotten any sleep whatsoever in the past few days, and something else heavy seemed to be weighing down on her shoulders without any remorse. Whatever it was, the stress was enough that she didn’t even bother to fully approach and instead waved off Amaimon once Ayane was within sight.

Amaimon didn’t seem too concerned by the matter as he kept walking. Margaret hung behind long enough for him to enter Ayane’s radius, as if watching out to ensure that Amaimon didn’t make a break for it (which wasn’t an encouraging thought in the _slightest_), before turning on her heel and plodding off in the opposite direction.

“Um,” Ayane said, still squinting to keep an eye on Margeret’s retreating form, “is Faust-san doing alright?”

“Hm?” Amaimon seemed to take a moment to realize Ayane was talking about his niece before taking a disinterested glance over his shoulder. “She and Aniue went on some trip to deal with…” He frowned as he trailed off, seemingly tongue tied. “It’s a family problem,” he settled on.

“Oh.” Ayane fidgeted with her hands behind her back, not sure what she could offer in response. “If it’s something big, we could have rescheduled. I mean, if it’s a family thing, and you have something to do with it—”

“She’s the one who has the problem, not me.” Ayane had gotten used to Amaimon’s near deadpan tone of voice in the time they’d spent together, but he seemed more dispassionate than usual. “Aniue’s already got things handled, so it doesn’t matter. What she’s getting worked up over is kind of pathetic.” With a lump in her throat, Ayane once again got the impression that Amaimon and Margeret seriously didn’t get along, but she didn’t have the courage to ask. With Margeret out of sight, Amaimon turned back to Ayane. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get sweets again.”

Ayane blinked at the non-sequitur, then had the incredibly belated realization that they _were_ on a date, which was the full point—not whatever was going on with Margeret. She’d prod Ryouichi into checking on her later, when other things weren’t demanding her attention. “Right!” Ayane would also worry about the calories at a _far_ later time. “Did you want to go to one of the same places as last time, or did you want to hunt down something new?”

Amaimon hummed in concentration, an almost imperceptible crease forming in his brow. “That one place we went to before was good. With the big chocolate cakes?”

Lacking in having the same sort of memory for sweets as Amaimon apparently did, it took a moment for it to come to Ayane. “Oh, you mean that place with the rabbit for the mascot?” Once she’d stuffed her stomach to full capacity, all the sugar she’d watched Amaimon consume had started to blend into each other. Fortunately, Amaimon’s nod seemed to indicate that she’d struck a correct note. “I think that one’s not too much of a walk away. Wanna just go on foot?”

“Fine by me.” Amaimon didn’t seem to have much issue for walking around half the day, and Ayane was glad for the opportunity to stay active. With Ayane in the lead (she’d reviewed the map that Ryouichi and Yori-chan had been kind enough to make for her the night before), Amaimon kept a casual pace as he shoved his hands into his pockets, though something seemed off.

Ayane stared at Amaimon for longer than what would have seemed polite, her brain working as though she was trying to solve an unnecessarily difficult spot the differences puzzle. It wasn’t until she noticed that she was admiring the toned muscles of his forearms that she realized both the dark green gloves from before were missing and his jacket, which had already looked like it had partially gone through an encounter with a buzz saw, was even more in tatters halfway up the sleeves.

“What happened to your jacket?” she asked before she could stop the words coming out of her mouth. Amaimon’s nonchalant glance to his arm was enough to keep her from erupting in a fresh wave of embarrassment.

Amaimon’s response, on the other hand, wasn’t anywhere near as assuring.

“I got into a fight.”

“_What?!_” The shout was loud enough to startle some birds that had been roosting atop some of the nearby shops, and Ayane slapped her hands to her mouth before she realized it was getting in the way of her breathing correctly and calming down. Trying to grasp to the shreds of her composure, Ayane lowered her voice, but she couldn’t erase the urgency from her tone. “Got into a fight with _who_? Are you _okay_?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Amaimon said with the casual air of someone who routinely got into fights without any issue at all. In fact, if Ayane listened closely, he almost sounded _offended_ that she’d insinuate otherwise. “I just went a little overboard fighting my little brother. We didn’t even properly fight. It’s not like I lost or anything.”

The barrage of information was so much that Ayane didn’t even know what to say first, and her brain supplied an option for her: “I thought you said you didn’t have any problems with what was going on with Faust-san?”

Amaimon pressed his long thumbnail between his teeth in a maneuver that let out a slight _creak_. “I didn’t. This and that are two different things.” Ayane’s expression must have been flabbergasted, because Amaimon took a moment to try and read her. “I don’t get what you’re so worked up about. Stuff like this is normal.”

“Getting into fights that are bad enough to tear up your clothes is _normal_?” Ayane reached out and pulled on Amaimon’s arm, trying to get him to realize the damage that had been done. Seeing the frayed edges made her stomach twist in concern, and Michiko might have fainted at the sight. Ayane frowned. “I know it can be hard to tell right from wrong in your family, but _this_ is _not_ normal. You could end up getting hurt!”

If Ayane didn’t know better, she might have mistaken the sound coming from Amaimon’s throat as a growl. “That little pipsqueak couldn’t hurt me if he tried—”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but _this_ says otherwise.” Ayane shook Amaimon’s arm as best she could, but it was still a challenge though he wasn’t actively resisting. She was just relieved that he didn’t seem to have any scratches, bruises, or scars left on his skin. “I may be overstepping my boundaries, but I don’t like the idea that you’re fighting someone hard enough to put yourself at risk. That’s not healthy for anyone.”

Amaimon seemed like he was about to let out a protest—and for a moment Ayane considered backing out and apologizing for going overboard—but something seemed to quell the frustration inside him. After several achingly long moments, he asked, “Why do you care so much?” 

Ayane wasn’t sure why, but something in the way his voice shifted the tiniest bit away from his usual monotone pierced straight through to her heart like a spear.

“Because I…” The nerves reared back in full force, and Ayane couldn’t get the words out of her throat, let alone look Amaimon in the eye. Instead, she just stared at where her hand had snatched onto Amaimon’s wrist, too afraid to let go, but too afraid to move closer. She swallowed. “Because I like spending time with you, and I don’t want that to go away.”

Amaimon didn’t snap back with a retort, and Ayane couldn’t bring herself to look up. Aside from the faint chirps of birds and some faint movement from shop keepers working on opening up their doors, silence hung between them in the morning air. _Was that too much? Did I go too far? I mean, we’ve really only _known _each other for like a week. That was too much, that was _way _too much—_

Ayane snatched her hand back to her side and dipped her head in a bow. “Sorry,” she said, rushing the words out before she could start to feel too scared. “What happens is none of my business. Please accept my apology.”

The next beat of silence was enough to make Ayane start to feel nauseous, and Amaimon’s click of the tongue didn’t help. “You sound awkward when you try to speak politely.”

Twenty different thoughts swirled through Ayane’s mind. “Says the guy who uses _Aniue_ to refer to his older brother!” Well, it certainly wasn’t the worst response.

Amaimon tilted his head. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Are you for real?” Ayane pushed a hand through her hair and groaned, the blue sky open above them. Composing herself, Ayane at last looked at Amaimon again, and his expression was the same as usual. “Listen, I just want to check this out to be sure: you’re not mad at me?”

“Mn? What’s worth getting mad about?” If anyone else would have said that, Ayane would have doubted it immediately, but there was something so unrelentingly _blunt_ about Amaimon that she could tell he was being honest. “Come on, I said I was hungry. I wanna get some of that cake while it’s still fresh baked…” He glanced around to catch his bearings, then continued forging the way forward. Not hearing that she was unwelcome, Ayane followed. Amaimon muttered something, but it must’ve been the stress playing tricks on her ears:

“You humans worry way too much over stupid things.”

* * *

Amaimon may not have usual exerted the effort to pay attention to what other people were feeling, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a capability to do so. Sure, he didn’t entirely understand what Ayane had gotten so worked up about at the start of the morning, but he could tell she’d been agitated. A few stops at some pastry shops later, though, she’d shifted out of her fight or flight mode and had eased up enough to make her usual small talk as the day passed.

Admittedly, he didn’t get why she spent so much time asking him questions and making conversation, but it wasn’t awful. She didn’t complain no matter what weird detours he took her on or how many different things he ordered at once per store. The card of plastic that Mephisto had sent along with him still worked (and the things humans came up with to replace the hassle of money were pretty damn convenient), as a gesture for showing him “something interesting.” And though Amaimon knew his brother was likely planning something in passing, he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to eat his fill while he still could.

While he was still out of his prison.

Amaimon’s nose picked up the scent of something sweet down the road they were walking on, his sense of smell undeterred by the bustling crowd that had formed as the day went on. As was their now standard practice, Amaimon turned to Ayane beside him and pointed down the street. “There’s a crepe stand down there. You want any?”

Ayane took a moment to squint down the street, but she did seem to notice what he was referring to. “Oh, good eye! Though I shouldn’t really be surprised by this point.” Amaimon didn’t see a need to correct her. She almost pouted in a moment of contemplation, pressing a hand against her stomach. Humans seemed to have much smaller appetites. “I guess I have room to get one if you don’t mind.”

“I told you already, it’s not a problem. Aniue’s paying.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Ayane laughed a bit, sounding somewhat nervous. “I’m just not used to getting spoiled like this… Um, I mean!” She coughed to clear her throat, a curious red color forming in her cheeks. “I was actually hoping to stop by a restroom. Do you mind waiting for me?”

_Humans really do worry about the weirdest things._ “I can go line up. What kind do you want?”

“Oh! Uh, strawberry, if they have any. Please.”

Amaimon nodded and headed off towards the stand. Though he had his back turned, he still kept some tabs on Ayane’s presence. Her footsteps sent faint reverberations through the ground beneath them, though the concrete and stones humans had put in place tried to muffle it. As he approached the crepe stand, he noticed a few people queued up in line ahead of him. The human ritual was a bore in comparison to fighting others for the _right_ to what you wanted, but it wasn’t worth getting worked up over, especially with Mephisto’s restrictions still in place.

The time passed quicker than he’d thought it would, and soon he’d obtained an order for Ayane and a few more for himself. He’d zoned out enough while waiting that he hadn’t been keeping too close of an eye on her presence, but she should have been back by now. Neither Mephisto _or_ his pain in the ass daughter would be happy if Amaimon lost Ayane, so he skimmed over the crowd, finding the soft brown color of her hair after a few short moments.

Along with the group of human males around her.

Amaimon frowned and started striding towards them, perking up his hearing in the process. Ayane’s voice came him first, that awkward forced politeness seeping into her tone. “I’m here with someone. Let’s just move on, okay?”

“Here with a friend?” one of the humans said, leaning closer. They were all taller than her, though Ayane didn’t seem too intimidated by the fact. “If you’ve got another girl with you, we don’t mind bringing some extra company along.”

“Right, right?” one of the others said, an annoying snicker to his voice. Amaimon felt his grip tightening on the crepes in hand, pushing some of the filling out. The unfortunately familiar nausea of Mephisto’s spells started to kick in, but Amaimon didn’t let that slow his advance or quell the instinctual violent thoughts pushing to the forefront of his mind. “If you’re here with a date, just ditch ‘em. Someone cute like you deserves—hey, watch where you’re going!”

Amaimon had intentionally jabbed his elbow into the human’s side, which made him change targets like an easily swayed hobgoblin. The human leaned forward with a sneer, and Ayane let out a soft gasp as she realized Amaimon’s approach. “Back off,” Amaimon said, letting the slightest hint of a snarl into his voice. “Ayane wants you to leave her alone.”

Having absolutely no sense of who he has dealing with, one of the humans sneered, and the other two followed suit. “What’s that, shorty?” the third of them said, trying to look tough. Amaimon had seen baby greenmen that had more fight to them. “You think you’re tough shit dressed like some punk? How about we fight and see who the girlie wants to hang out with then?”

They weren’t worth the effort of getting worked up over. If he wanted to, it would only take a few seconds to wipe them off the face of Assiah, and Amaimon entertained the thought just long enough to trigger the next stage of Mephisto’s restrictions past nausea, the ones that threatened to shoot pain through his veins and send him to his knees. But no matter how much the spells pulled at him, there was just enough leeway that Amaimon could stay standing and bear his teeth.

“Sure,” he said, exerting as much of his demonic aura as he could get away with, “let’s play.”

* * *

Whiskey was about at her mental and physical limit. The trip with her father to Russia had happened without any conceivable warning, the artificial Gehenna Gate had left a burning smell inside her nose that refused to fade, and seeing _him_ had done nothing but dreg up memories from the past that she wanted nothing more than to forget. All that combined with trying to recover from the missed days of school and the extra work with the Cram School to handle the School’s Seven mysteries, she had wanted nothing but to hibernate for a month.

But no. Aside from dragging her to another continent on his whims, Vati had also decided to let Amaimon out for another farce of a date, and Fukui was as oblivious as ever. With everything that had happened, Whiskey didn’t even want to _think_ about opening the lock on her Submission, which left her with Behemoth-chan once more on a leash as they stalked Uncle Amaimon.

Whiskey was trying to keep tabs on them from a nearby alleyway when she felt the shift in energy that almost sent her sanity over the damn edge, and her anxiety opened Submission against her will, spilling agitated Coal Tar to the air amongst wisps of purple. Despite every restriction that was on him, Amaimon was still exerting his power the tiniest fraction.

For any other demon, that might not have been a big deal—but for one of the Princes of Gehenna, the change in the atmosphere was almost immediate. Behemoth started to paw at the ground beneath him, his claws scratching against the stonework. Several minor demons in the area that had already been worked up by the open artificial Gehenna Gate elsewhere in the world let out cries, and the weakest of them immediately retreated. As Whiskey rushed up to the opening to the alley, she could see that several people in the streets had started to look disconcerted, their sixth sense innately able to feel the shift around them that they couldn’t see.

“Just what the hell is that idiot doing?!” she hissed, scanning over the street until she found him. Amaimon and Fukui stood amidst a trio of guys who looked like pale imitations of even stereotypical troublemakers. With his teeth on full display, it was obvious what Amaimon’s intentions were. “Oh hell no,” Whiskey said, tightening her grip on Behemoth’s leash as the hobgoblin became increasingly agitated. If there was ever a reason that she hadn’t wanted Fukui to even meet her uncle, what was happening was it, and Whiskey geared herself up to do the best she could to get him back under control before—

“Faust-san?”

The referral stopped her. It wasn’t from Fukui—in fact, the voice had come from behind her, soft and scared. Whiskey turned around to see a girl with her brunette hair cut short and hanging loose. Her eyes were wide from fear, able to see the demons in the alleyway, the frustrated flicks of Whiskey’s own demon tail. The girl wasn’t in her True Cross Academy uniform, but after a few moments, Whiskey was able to recognize her as one of Ryouichi and Fukui’s friends.

Miyamoto Yori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for all the kudos! I wish AO3's notification emails made it easier for me to thank you all by name, but know that I appreciate the support from you all!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eleven

* * *

Amaimon relished the feeling of watching the humans flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere. Even if they didn’t have a Temptaint, that didn’t mean they were incapable of understanding when they were up against an opponent that far outclassed them. And while Amaimon would have been more than happy to give them the injuries necessary to show them just _who_ they were up against, Mephisto’s spells were tight enough to make Amaimon wait and see if he could scare the pests off first.

_Because if they didn’t get the hint no magic of Mephisto’s would be enough to stop him from—_

One of the humans—probably their leader—managed to recover enough to try and play tough. “Oho, scrawny kid over here thinks he’s tough, huh?” he asked, leering down. The other two joined in, bolstered by the ringleader’s actions. He laughed. “Excuse me if I don’t happen to think some brat with some sweets is scary.”

Another one of them joined in, his snicker sounding halfway like wheezing. “You’re out of your league, kid. How about your leave off the snacks, too? You’ll scram if you know what’s good for you.”

_Stupid humans._ If he weren’t under restrictions, Amaimon could have killed the male with a flick of a single finger. As things were, the undercurrent of pain was trying to restrict him from moving, but Amaimon could overcome it if he acted fast enough. Teeth gritted together, he said, “Last chance to leave.”

“Huh? Don’t you get it, kid? You’re done f—”

There was a crunch of cartilage and the scent of blood before Amaimon could even move. Ayane had thrown a fist in perfect form, even if it was much slower than Amaimon was used to in fights between demons. With just humans involved, though, it had been more than enough, and the idiot that had taken the hit was clutching his nose, an undeniable trail of blood slipping out between his fingers. One of his friends looked stunned for a moment before looking back to Ayane. “What the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry, who was the one just threatening other people?” Ayane asked, all the forced politeness from her voice gone. Instead, a hard edge had come in its place, and Ayane rolled her wrist while leveling the three humans in a glare. Amaimon, who also hadn’t been expecting the outburst, felt just as stunned as the others looked. “If you’re going to talk tough, you better not be surprised when someone decides to call you out on it.”

The shortest of the three males tensed to fight, but then he caught sight of the crowd around them. Before, the humans had been willing to ignore the confrontation, but Ayane’s punch had made it much harder to ignore. The male stilled while those in the crowd let out conflicted whispers, some debating on jumping in, others trying to avoid what was happening, and more than once the phrase “call the cops” flitted through the air.

“You think you can scare me, you little cunt?” the one with the broken nose did, having regained his composure despite the blood pouring over his lips. Amaimon considered breaking the human’s teeth, and the kickback of Mephisto’s spells was enough to make him grimace. “If you wanna fight, then let’s fight.”

“Hey, Boss, people are staring—”

“Shut up!”

Ayane jutted her chin up and widened her stance. “I’ll give you two options, _buddy_,” she said, holding up a matching number of fingers. “You can leave me and Amaimon alone, and I won’t cause a commotion about this, or you can try to come at me, and we’ll see just how well that works for you when the cops show up.”

To Amaimon, a threat like calling the human peacemakers seemed negligible—almost foolish, considering there was no such force to ensure that people obeyed the law in Gehenna, where the _only_ law was that of the strong taking from the weak. But the leader seemed to hesitate a little bit, and even his supporters were looking less enthused by the idea. “I’d like to see you talk so big after a three on one fight, girlie.”

“Three on two,” Amaimon said, though he had to force the words out through gritted teeth. Since he was feeling nauseous enough already, he pushed out more of his demonic aura, freezing the thugs in their tracks and sending a wave of silence over the surrounding crowd. Even Ayane stilled for a moment, her eyes flicking to Amaimon before she once again toughened her expression. “And I won’t go as easy on you as Ayane will.”

Not even half a second passed before all three of them took off running.

They would have been stupid not to; Amaimon hadn’t held back any of his malicious intent. Even haughty prey knew its place before a predator that far outclassed it, and Amaimon did in spades. Having Ayane ready to fight had helped, too, and Amaimon was almost disappointed that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see her show more of her ferocity, the will to fight that was far more intense than most humans could muster.

He didn’t get to contemplate that train of thought much longer before the full kickback of Mephisto’s spells activated, sending him doubling over in pain and the crepes he’d been holding onto splattering against the pale cobblestones.

“Amaimon-san!”

_The next time I see Aniue’s brat I’m going to snap her neck for suggesting this,_ he thought, too fueled with annoyance to even care that the idea was making his condition worse. _She’s his kin. Half-human or not, she can take it._ Would it get him in more trouble? It was hard to tell, since Mephisto seemed to dote on the girl while also plotting ways to endanger her life all at once.

A gentle hand pressed against Amaimon’s back, and he caught Ayane’s scent first through the wave of sickness. “Amaimon-san, are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?”

The only reason Amaimon didn’t laugh was because he physically couldn’t; he didn’t think even one of the True Cross’s Doctors could handle what was wrong with him. But while Mephisto had made it simple to trigger the sickness, he’d also made it simple to get rid of, so long as Amaimon followed the rules lied out, so he just shook his head. “Gimme a minute,” he said, hating how the whisper of his voice sounded the same as it did when trapped inside the darkness. “I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Whiskey’s brain shuffled around priorities, unable to settle on what was most important—kicking her uncle’s ass, kicking Behemoth’s ass, or trying to talk to Miyamoto Yori like a rational person. Her expression flickered between a snarl and a pleasant smile, adding yet another blunder to the list as of late, and then Whiskey realized that if Amaimon was about to go off on some punks then it was probably best to get Miyamoto the hell out of there before everything went to hell.

Again.

Just like it had her final year of middle school.

Mind made up and manners kicking into overdrove, Whiskey put on her best smile, even as she tightened her grip around Behemoth’s leash, sharpening nails biting into her own skin. “Hey, there, you’re one of Fukui-senpai’s friends, right?” she asked, modeling her light and airy tone of voice after a performance she’d seen in anime. “Miyamoto-san, right?” _Miyamoto, though. That name sounds familiar from somewhere else. No, focus!_

Miyamoto let out a gasp so faint that only Whiskey could hear, and then Miyamoto clenched her hands into the skirt of her dress, the orange color almost fire amongst the shadowed alleyway. “Y-yes.” Miyamoto tried to force a smile, but her look was distracted, eyes flicking around, and Whiskey had to bite her cheek to stifle a curse word once she recognized where Miyamoto was looking.

Not at Whiskey.

Not at the place where Ayane and Amaimon were.

But Behemoth.

“Fuck,” Whiskey said, her crafted expression slipping away. By the time she recognized that the word had come out of her mouth instead of staying nestled in her mind, there wasn’t any point in trying to recover. She tossed her arm out, jerking Behemoth along. “_Fuck_. You have a Temptaint. _Of course_ you have a Temptaint!”

Miyamoto flinched, the motion bringing with it a deluge of unpleasant memories—just more to add onto the heap. Whiskey stopped short of kicking the wall closest to her, but even that act of conscious control didn’t stop her from wanting to beat the crap out of something. Miyamoto sucked in a deep breath, looking between girl and demon one more time before settling on meeting Whiskey’s gaze. “U-um, by Temptaint, you wouldn’t happen to mean…”

The smart move would have been to pretend like nothing was wrong from the get go, but Whiskey had flown far past that point already, and the agitation blurring through her veins was more than enough to send her tail twitching and make the few coal tar left in her reserves pop into existence, wisps of purple trailing after. _Might as well just spill all the secrets while I’m at it._ “A Temptaint,” Whiskey said, trying to make her voice sound a bit less hysteric, “is what we call an injury that lets you see demons. Like this guy and these things.” She tugged on Behemoth’s leash and gestured to the coal tar. Miyamoto blinked before nodding once, slow and deliberate. Whiskey couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “You’re taking this a lot calmer than most people do.”

“Oh! Well, I’ve been able to see stuff like this since I was little, so I’m honestly kind of relieved that someone else can.” Miyamoto was being honest; Whiskey understood the inflections in her voice, and even Miyamoto’s scent didn’t carry any of the usual traces of those that lied. It also meant that she wasn’t one of the recent Temptaint cases from the Artificial Gehenna Gate increasing the demon population. Whiskey just didn’t know if that made her job easier or harder.

_What even am I trying to do here? Just because Miyamoto has a Temptaint doesn’t make her an exorcist. Should I tell her that Fukui-senpai is trying to date one of the strongest demons out there? Or would that just scare her? What about the fact that I’m that strong demon’s niece?_

_Would _I _scare her?_

A sensation not unlike bile started to worm its way of Whiskey’s throat, and it didn’t have anything to do with Uncle Amaimon flagrantly tossing around his killing intent like it was nothing.

A tug on the leash in Whiskey’s hand brought her back to reality; Behemoth, as if sensing her weakness, had attempted to jump out into the streets, and Miyamoto let out a startled gasp. Whiskey yanked back, the hobgoblin cowing once he realized she wasn’t backing down. “You,” she hissed at Amaimon’s stupid pet, “need to _behave._”

Behemoth let out something like a groan but plopped himself down on the ground anyways. “Ah, Faust-san?” Miyamoto didn’t move any closer, warily eyeing Behemoth as if he would leap at her next. “Is that, um, demon your pet?”

“_No_,” she said, too fast, too harsh. Reminding herself to stay under control, Whiskey cleared her throat. “Behemoth-chan is here because I’ve gotten stuck with pet sitting.” _And babysitting your clueless friend while she tries to hit on my Uncle._

Even just thinking the words made Whiskey shudder, but they also reminded her that she had a job to do, and it wasn’t explaining the whole Assiah-Gehenna-Exorcist-Demon dynamic to Miyamoto. Whiskey held up her free hand. “Sorry, Miyamoto-san. Please just give me a moment.” Miyamoto, not asking any annoying questions in the process, nodded, and Whiskey refocused back on Amaimon’s presence. Sure, there weren’t any screams of terror, so he hadn’t ended up going on a rampage or whatever the hell he was thinking, but that didn’t mean Whiskey still didn’t need to call her father if Amaimon had gotten close. The more time she had to focus, the more Whiskey was able to recognize that he’d pulled back on trying to exert his demonic aura, which was the good news.

The bad news was that Whiskey couldn’t see him _or_ Fukui on the street where they’d been not too long ago. They were close—it wasn’t that hard to find Amaimon’s scent, even when he was suppressing his capabilities—but moving fast. If she were alone, she could have just taken off, but Miyamoto was there, and running off without giving any help to someone who’d never been able to talk to another person about being able to see demons just seemed plain rude.

_Vati would know what to do. He’d tell me to think, to prioritize. But what’s the better priority? Protecting Fukui-senpai or helping Miyamoto-san?_ She hated problems like these, where there was no clear cut answer. She envied anime protagonists, who always managed to pick the one answer where everything worked out in the end, she envied games where you could save before a choice and go back in time if you got the bad end.

_Kin of Time and Space and you can’t even do that much._

“Whoa, what do we have going on here?” an all-too familiar voice asked, and Whiskey turned at the same time as Miyamoto. At the opposite end of the alleyway was none other than Shima, dressed in casual clothes and with Kuro padding along at the boy’s heels. Shima chuckled, waving a hand through the air. “Easy there, Whiskey-chan. I just thought you could use some help by the sounds of things.”

Miyamoto looked between the two exorcists-in-training, flustered and mouthing Whiskey’s true name with confusion. Whiskey didn’t even have the energy to tell him off for dropping off that referral in public; she’d been planning on mentioning it at some point in her explanation. For the moment, she had more pressing concerns to think about. “What are you even doing here?”

“What, a guy can’t go out on the town when there’s no school? You didn’t expect me to stay cooped up studying like Bon and Konekomaru, did ya?” Shima put on a perfect smile, but Kuro’s tilted head and confused _mrow_ gave him away. Something else was going on, and Whiskey didn’t have time for yet another crisis to erupt right in front of her face. Even worse, the glint in Shima’s eyes indicated that he knew that _she_ knew, but he wasn’t going to be the one to slip in front of Miyamoto. “Come on, you’ve been stressed lately. Why don’t I take Yori-chan here off your hands, help her out with this demon stuff, and you go ahead and handle your real mission.”

Oh, even worse, he knew that Whiskey had a task, and it wasn’t taking Behemoth for a walk. _Fantastic. _But what was the alternative? Letting Amaimon wonder off who knows where, while Fukui was vulnerable? Shima could handle Miyamoto, but only Whiskey could take care of Amaimon.

“Fine!” she said, tossing her hands up into the air. _Not that I have much of a choice, but, sure, fine, make everything more complicated than it needs to be._ Behemoth grunted from the tug on his leash, and Kuro had his haunches raised as he observed the larger hobgoblin. “You better treat Miyamoto-san with respect, Shima, or I’ll let you have it. And I bet Fukui-senpai would be more than willing to kick your ass, too!”

The smug satisfaction slipped right off of Shima’s face as he launched into pure panic. “You’d tattle on me?! That’s a low blow, Whiskey-chan!”

“Damn straight I would!” She couldn’t fully go out and judge Shima, but at least she could give him a warning. Miyamoto didn’t need any more trouble in her life. Whiskey shook her head, letting herself focus. “Behave yourself, Shima! Kuro, you keep watch!”

The cait sídhe perked up at the sound of his name and meowed, “_Okay~!_”

As satisfied as she could be, Whiskey recollected whatever coal tars she could and used them to lure Behemoth forward, using her senses to hunt for Amaimon as fast as she could.

* * *

Sitting across from Amaimon in some restaurant or another, Ayane watched him with worry. For the first time since they’d met, Amaimon looked ill, his face paler than usual as he hunched over the table. The server, upon seeing how he looked, had been more than willing to let them take a seat once seeing how sick Amaimon looked, and they’d brought a glass of water to boot. Amaimon hadn’t touched it, nor had he made any moves to try and order something, which was a whole other level of concerning in its own way.

_He said he just needed to sit down, but…_

“Amaimon-san?” Ayane said after several moments of silence that she couldn’t stand anymore. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said again, though the words came out as more of a grunt than anything else. That, too, was an odd experience: hearing something in this voice other than the usual monotone. “It’ll pass. Just gimme a few more minutes.”

Ayane pressed her lips together, unsure of what else to say. Amaimon’s words made it clear that what was happening would go away—but what if he was playing it off, the same way he’d dismissed the danger of fighting with his younger brother? Ayane knew that none of the punks had gotten close to hurting him, but what if it was something else, a sickness, an injury from another fight?

The memory of the impact with the ringleader’s face still pulsed against her knuckles. It wasn’t her first time punching someone by a longshot; she’d been in self-defense classes before tennis caught her attention. It shouldn’t have bothered her, defending herself and Amaimon against someone who clearly was on the verge of causing trouble, but for the first time in a while, Ayane felt a sense of guilt wriggle into her consciousness.

“Sorry,” she whispered, and Amaimon still looked up, though her voice was quiet. Feeling chagrined, Ayane ducked her head, kneading her hands in her lap. “Um, well, earlier I was lecturing you about getting into fights, and then I went ahead and almost started something on my own. I was a hypocrite about it, so I figured I should…apologize?” She trailed off, realizing that she wasn’t making much sense, and bit her tongue to stop it from flapping any further.

_It’s not going to do you any good to apologize for that now. He’s feeling sick; he doesn’t need to deal with your headspace._

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to backpedal the conversation. “Let’s just focus on worrying about you. If you’re not feeling well, we can call it a day.” Better that than making him get worse for her own selfishness of wanting him around. “I don’t mind if you want to just get some rest and head home—”

“_No._” The word came so fast and so low that Ayane jumped at the sound. Amaimon winced one more time, and when he spoke again, his voice was still somewhat drained, but as monotone as ever. “Why do you do that?”

Ayane blinked, caught off guard by the non-sequitur. “Why do I do what?”

“Why do you hesitate whenever you could show off your strength instead?” The intensity of his unwavering gaze combined with the compliment sprinkled in made Ayane flush, and she wished she’d asked the server for a glass of water of her own to combat the sudden dryness in her mouth. “You could have fought those hu—idiots from the start, but you tried to talk them out of it instead. Why bother when you’re stronger than they are?”

“Huh? There’s no sense in fighting someone when you don’t have to.” From the blank look Amaimon gave her (the slightest bit perceptible from his usual expression), he didn’t seem to understand. “I mean, sure, I could have fought them, but that just would have caused trouble. And besides, there were three of them; I’m pretty tough, but I don’t think I could’ve taken all three of them by my—”

“You could have.” For some reason that Ayane couldn’t figure out, Amaimon seemed annoyed. “I could tell that they wouldn’t stand a chance against you. Besides, it would have been three on _two_.” Amaimon held up a matching number of fingers. “If you would have fought, I would have fought with you. Humans like them don’t even have the right to bother you.”

Ayane wasn’t even sure where to begin responding to that declaration, let alone Amaimon’s insistence that she could have taken on three opponents without much trouble. “Amaimon-san, I think you’ve overestimating—”

“I’m not. I can tell how strong someone is.” Feeling somewhat dizzy from the compliment and his arguments, Ayane’s mouth flapped without any proper sound coming out. Amaimon, not looking very much sick at all anymore, sat up straight in his seat. “I wanna see what you’re like when you’re not holding back.”

* * *

“…And that wraps up what we were going to cover. I expect you do to better on your quiz coming up this week, Okumura-kun.”

Rin swallowed his groan at the last moment and made himself nod. “Yes, Sensei.” Satisfied for the moment, his teacher gave a farewell and exited the room. Within seconds, Rin had slumped over his desk, not even caring that he landed face first in his notes. Sure, he needed the extra lessons, especially since Yukio and Whiskey were too busy to help him out, but a couple of hours loaded with lectures didn’t help him at all. Not with the stress of trying to sort out the work on the Seven Mysteries and helping Godaiin with his demon problem.

_Damn, and Shima’s gotta be pissed since I bailed on him this morning. And Amaimon’s running around, too! Can anything in my life possibly—no, no, I take it back. Whiskey would tell me not to say something that’s just asking for trouble._

A nap felt so tempting, but if he was gonna pass out then he’d much rather do it somewhere more comfortable than on his school desk. Still groaning, Rin gathered up his things and started the trudge back to the old boy’s dormitory. Along the way, he pulled his phone from his pocket, contemplating asking Yukio if he’d be home for dinner, but Rin ended up distracted before he could even pull up Yukio’s contact.

Shima had been sending Rin messages in spurts, quick little notes on what was happening while observing what was happening with Amaimon. Most of them were nonsense updates on whatever restaurant they were stopping at, with the occasional note about Fukui-senpai. On Whiskey’s part, she seemed to just be following along, though she had Amaimon’s pet hobgoblin with her for whatever reason. One of the messages was a picture of Kuro. Overall, though, the messages were pretty monotonous, just providing a record of where Shima was so Rin could catch up later, and he started skimming more than reading, trying not to run into anything as he navigated his way across campus.

_Shima: Whoops, looks like Whiskey-chan’s having some trouble. Gonna see if I can help her out!_

Rin stopped walking, a bad feeling creeping down his spine. What did “having some trouble” even mean? Was something happening with Amaimon? Starting to work up into a panic, Rin almost dropped his phone trying to call Shima—but he didn’t answer.

“Dammit, are you serious?!” Rin tried again, getting the same result. He was about to do it a third time when he remembered Shima’s texts, and he looked for the last time Shima had mentioned a location. _I think I know that place… Agh, forget it! I’ll just head that way! If Amaimon’s causing trouble, it’s not like it’ll be hard to find him._

Stuffing his phone in his pocket and gripping onto the handle of his sword bag, Rin turned around and ran straight towards the school’s entrance, straight towards True Cross Academy Town.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Twelve

* * *

“I wanna see what you’re like when you’re not holding back.”

It took Ayane but a moment to fully process what Amaimon had said—and then she made herself smile, though she could hear the nervousness in her own voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amaimon-san.” The lie didn’t have any confidence behind it, and the only reason that Ayane managed not to let out a fake laugh was through sheer willpower and practice dealing with awkward situations from all of the double dates Michiko had dragged her on.

_I never thought I’d actually be grateful for all that nonsense, but there’s a first time for anything!_

Her thoughts may have been panicked, but Ayane didn’t miss the faintest crease that formed in Amaimon’s brow, the closest he’d ever gotten to showing displeasure at her. “Don’t lie,” he said, voice still in its near monotone. He didn’t have to sound angry to make Ayane flinch. “You know what I’m talking about. Why do you even bother?”

_Would it kill you to even bother thinking about what you’re doing to other people when you go all out like that?!_

The memory sent a wave of nausea through her stomach, and Ayane clenched her fists, wanting for something to hold onto. All she got was the not loose enough denim of her jeans. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed anyways. “I can’t just go around fighting people who upset me, even when they’re creeps like that. If people went around doing that, it’d be chaos. That’s why we have laws against that sort of thing.”

“That’s because humans are stupid.” He said it so plainly that Ayane couldn’t even think of a response, let alone voice it. Amaimon bit on his thumbnail, then, as if realizing what he was doing, pulled his finger away and fished in his pocket for one of the suckers he’d bought at an earlier stop in a candy shop. “There’s nothing wrong with fighting people to make a point.”

“There’s so much wrong with that, I don’t know where to start!” Ayane threw up her hands, not knowing how else to show her exasperation. What frustrated her more than his casual attitude and the way he licked at his candy like they were still having a normal conversation, though, was that she somewhat agreed, in the dark little part of her heart she tried to keep tucked away. “Forget other people. If I—if I just went around, fighting whoever the hell I wanted to people would get hurt for no good reason at all. Or even if it _was_ for a good reason, like those idiots from earlier, it’s not like there aren’t other ways to solve the problem without fighting.”

Amaimon gave her a look as if he hadn’t heard of the concept before. No, he’d _heard_ of the concept, but he still didn’t think it was right. “If you keep thinking like that, _you’re_ going to be the one who ends up hurt without doing anything about it.”

Was he questioning her judgement? Sure, Ayane tried to steer herself towards pacifism whenever she could, but even she knew that there were some situations that called for a bit more force. It was why she’d punched the punk from earlier; she’d thought about it, and one solid punch at the right time was going to be way more effective than trying to talk her way out of their circle of interest. Feeling miffed at Amaimon’s implication, Ayane narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying I don’t have enough sense of self preservation that I don’t know when to stick up for myself?”

“I’m saying that you take too long to decide to fight. You’d rather play nice and polite first.” Knowing that he was right, Ayane looked away. _What else am I supposed to do? _“You hesitated earlier. If you didn’t, things would have been over a lot faster. That’s going to backfire one of these days, and _you’ll_ be the one who ends up hurt.”

Ayane tried to remind herself that Amaimon clearly had a different perspective on the matter; he’d made that clear when she’d gotten upset at him for fighting with his brother. Whatever life experience he’d had, it was one where fighting _was_ the right first option, a different environment from Ayane’s overall quiet and safe life in Japan. And while the feelings of self doubt were still lingering inside her, concern for Amaimon swelled up to push the negative feelings somewhat away.

_Amaimon-san, what happened to you?_

Amaimon bit down on his sucker with a loud crunch, and Ayane’s thoughts flitted away without her feeling like she had the right to ask something so personal. Amaimon, whatever was on his mind, had no such concerns. “Fine,” he said, his expression back to full neutral as he almost drawled out the word. “If you won’t fight people for yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

“What?!” Realizing how loud she’d been, Ayane sucked in a breath and glanced around the restaurant, giving an apologetic look to patrons and waitstaff who looked her way. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, hissing to emphasize her point without another outburst. Though she hadn’t seen him in action, Ayane knew from the state of his clothes and his blasé attitude about subject that, in a fight, Amaimon wasn’t someone who even _thought_ about holding back.

Not looking fazed by her concerns, Amaimon shrugged. “I want to do it.” Ayane couldn’t even begin to feel flustered that he was willing to fight for her; there was too much worry mingling in her brain to think about what it might mean.

_Whatever he would do would be so much worse than I would do on accident,_ she realized.

“And I don’t want you to do that,” she said, her tone coming out severe. Maybe, if she put enough authority behind the words, Amaimon would back down. “I don’t need you to protect me, Amaimon-san. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“You are,” he said, admitting it without any tr006Fuble, and that was near enough to mollify the annoyance inside her, “but you’re not doing it, so I’ll take care of it.”

“I said no!” Her fist hit the restaurant’s table with enough force to make the napkin holder shake. “I’m not about to let you go around, using me as an excuse to pick a fight with people.”

“Oh yeah?” If she didn’t know better, Ayane would have thought Amaimon was happy to see her so worked up, but it was so hard to tell with his unshifting expression. “If you don’t want me to do it, then make me.”

“M-make you?” she repeated, half spluttering at the childish argument.

“Yeah, make me.” Amaimon stood, hands tucked in his pockets and the sucker stick hanging from the corner of his mouth. “Fight me, Ayane. If you win, I’ll do whatever you want.”

* * *

It wasn’t often that Yori had moments where she wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten there, but she was in the middle of having one. She’d wanted to take some time off campus—the town below them was so interestingly designed that it made for great writing inspiration—but then she’d gotten sidetracked trying to avoid some clusters of the monsters that were growing in number every day. And that detour had led her straight to Margeret Faust, the Headmaster’s daughter and the one helping Ayane with her dates, which wouldn’t have been anything other of a coincidence if it weren’t for one little—or, rather, _large_ problem.

The yellow and green monster, half Faust-san’s height and with long and thick forearms ending in claws, large teeth with rounded edges that still seemed as if they could tear through anything.

One of the creatures she’d seen before, the ones starting to overtake the school and town and that no one else saw, hooked on a leash as if it were a dog on a walk.

Yori had no idea how she hadn’t screamed. It was one of those moments where panic had hit overload, her brain going into survival mode and talking rationally. She was glad that Faust-san seemed open enough to explaining things, but she seemed torn over something, and had left the moment that someone else had arrived on the scene, offering assistance.

_And that’s where I’m confused?_

The boy with pink hair had introduced himself as Shima Renzo. He was also a first year True Cross Academy student, but he was from a few classes over. Yori hadn’t even had to introduce herself, because he’d already known, and he plopped her onto a nearby bench, offered to get her a snack, and slipped into the crowd, leaving her behind with the cat, who’d given a few meows before landing in Yori’s lap.

“At least you’re cute,” she said, scritching underneath the cat’s chin. Though the small nubs on their head and the two tails indicated that they weren’t normal, the cat seemed tame enough, if the purrs rumbling against her fingertips were any indication.

“Yeah, Kuro’s pretty cute, isn’t he?” Yori looked up at the sound of Shima’s voice, finding him standing nearby with two crepes in hand. “I didn’t know what kind you’d like, so I got a few. Take your pick, Yori-chan.”

Blinking at the overly familiar referral (she was used to it from Michiko and the others, but not practical strangers), Yori assessed the sweets before her. “I’ll take the chocolate, thanks.” Shima complied, passing over the crepe before plopping down on the bench beside her. “How much was it, Shima-san? I can pay you back.”

Shima held up a hand and shook his head. “Not necessary, Yori-chan! I have no problems buying a treat for a cute girl if it means I get to bask in her company!” _Oh,_ Yori thought, taking an unapologetic bite from her crepe, _he’s one of those types._ “Not to mention you’re having a tough time right now, by the looks of it. Though, I guess if you really wanted to pay me back, we could call this a date.”

“Sorry, but I’m not interested in boys.” Shima’s mouth opened, shut, and opened again, and Yori sighed. It was so obvious he was trying to interpret her words in a way that suited him. “Shima-san, I’m a lesbian.”

There was another beat of awkward silence, and Yori wondered if it would be way more worth it to just get up and leave. But Shima surprised her with a sage-like nod. “I don’t blame you. Girls are great.” Kuro meowed something from Yori’s lap, and she figured out how to hold her crepe with one hand so she could free up the other to resume her petting. “But anyways,” Shima said, trying to steer the conversation back into manageable territory, “I still stand by the fact that you probably have a crap load worth of questions, and I can still buy you a snack to get through this.”

_Look at that; someone who can handle it with some human decency._ Too bad strangers’ reactions to her sexual orientation weren’t the highest priority on her list. “You make it sound like this—” she gestured to Kuro as much as she could “—is a really bad thing.” Aside from the potential dangers of the monsters she’d always seen, part of Yori had considered it cool that she had something like the sight or whatever term you wanted to use for it. A Temptaint, Faust-san had called it.

“Well, I mean, it’s not the worst thing ever. Plenty of people can see demons, and there’s even people like me and Whis—Margeret-chan who are in training to take care of the problematic ones.” Since Shima was about to start explaining, Yori busied herself with her crepe, enjoying the drizzle of chocolate mixed with whipped cream. “Essentially, we’re going to become exorcists, help when there are demon issues and stuff. I guess you could say that’s what she was doing earlier—taking care of some exorcist business.”

“Because there are demons.” Shima gave her an almost pitying look, and Yori shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve seen them before, but I’m just wrapping my head around things. B-but I read a lot of light novels, and I write fantasy, so I’m sure if you give me the basics, I’ll be okay. Demons, exorcist organization—what else?” Oddly enough, she felt way more in her element that she did in everyday life.

Shima bit into his own crepe, a cube of mango spilling out over the side. He half-cursed, half chewed while coming up with a response. “Okay, so basics of basics. There are demons, and the Knights of the True Cross are the ones who patrol stuff—that’s what Wh—_Margeret_-chan and I are training to be. Basically, demons show up in Assiah, which is our world, but they come from Gehenna, which is, well—Yori-chan, you okay?”

“Gehenna is basically the demon world.” Her hand stopped midway through running over Kuro’s back, and the cat gave her a curious look. Yori was too busy trying to understand what in the world all the pieces _meant_ to keep petting him. “Not just a place in the Bible, but the _literal _place where demons come from.”

Still giving her a sideways look, Shima nodded, which didn’t help. “A lot of different religions have spirits and places that are a part of…_this._” He waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “I’m kinda surprised you knew that, though, Yori-chan. Pretty sure that’s one of the more obscure things in the Bible.”

“I didn’t know. Not until Ayane-san mentioned it.” And Ayane had only brought Gehenna up because— Yori half considered giving the whole thing up for broke and going back to the dorm so she could curl up in bed and pretend it all was a dream. “M-my friend. She’s seeing someone that she really likes. And he said he was from Gehenna.” And while she wanted to believe that it was still just a joke, some chuunibyou nonsense, all the evidence was pointing in the worst possible direction—including the fact that Shima had stopped looking her in the eye with a nervous sort of smile twitching on his lips. “Shima-san. You know something about this, don’t you?”

His laugh sounded just as strained as his expression looked. “Do you want me to be honest, or would you rather I sugarcoat it?”

If the crepe didn’t taste so good, Yori might have considered emulating Ayane and tossing it at Shima. Instead, she settled for locking him in the best glare she could muster. “I want you to tell me.” She couldn’t back down, not when Ayane could be in danger. “What do you know about what’s happening with Ayane-san?”

“Yeah, funny story… You know how I said Margeret-chan was doing some exorcist business?” Yori nodded, a sense of anxiety stirring up in her. “Well that’s ‘cause she’s keeping an eye on Fukui-senpai’s date.”

“Because Amaimon-san is a demon,” Yori finished for him, feeling winded. She almost dropped her crepe, though Kuro’s head nudged into her hands. She offered the cat a weak smile. “What does a demon want with her, anyways? And I’ve never seen one that looks like a human before—I mean, Ayane-san doesn’t have a Temptaint as far as I know, and she knows about him just fine!” She was sure there was an explanation to everything, but she didn’t have the concrete answers, and that was just making everything worse. _Ayane-san should be with him now; what if something happens to her…?_

_Hasn’t she gone through enough already?_

“Easy there, Yori-chan.” How did he make smiling look so easy? Shima had even managed to eat half of his crepe while Yori was having an internal crisis. “As far as I can tell, Fukui-senpai doesn’t have a Temptaint. And I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you that this all started because Fukui-senpai went ahead and pestered Margeret-chan to help her out.” Yori bit her lip, remembering all of Ayane’s rants about the subject; Ayane was there because she wanted to be, even if she didn’t know the whole picture. “As for why Amaimon’s there, I’m pretty sure it’s because there’s someone I can’t talk about who finds it funny.”

Yori frowned, wanting more answers but knowing that Shima wouldn’t give them. “Is Ayane-san in danger, then?” As said, she’d read her fair share of fiction; demons weren’t always evil, there were ones who were still good. Maybe, if the world they lived in was kind, Amaimon would be one of the good ones, someone who wouldn’t bring more trouble into Ayane’s life.

_If anyone has to go through something for us to make it through this, I’d rather it be me._

But if Amaimon wasn’t an issue, the part of her brain responsible for pessimism wondered, then why was Faust-san watching out for Ayane as an exorcist?

Shima’s smile had faded down to a more serious expression, all but confirming Yori’s worries. “I’ll be honest with you, Yori-chan. Amaimon’s a really powerful demon. Like, super powerful.” Yori nodded, her mouth too dry to even begin to form words. “He hasn’t been causing trouble lately, and I’m pretty sure that he’s under restrictions so he can’t go too far, but that doesn’t mean he’s not capable of it. He’s caused some real problems in the past.”

“What… What kind of problems?” Yori asked, voice shaking.

“Ah, I mean…” Shima flashed an apologetic look. “Y’see, I normally wouldn’t mind telling you, since Fukui-senpai’s your friend, but I’m sure Margeret-chan’s already gonna be pissed at me for telling you too much, and it’s not really my story to tell, you get me, Yori-chan?”

Yori had read and written enough stories to understand what was between the lines: something had happened to Faust-san, and it involved Amaimon. Tucking that information away to ask about when she had the chance, Yori moved on. “Okay then. Then Amaimon…” She hesitated, not knowing if the honorific was appropriate anymore or not. “You said he was powerful. How powerful is he?”

“Man, you sure do like asking the hard questions. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually, so no point in hiding it.” Shima polished off the last of his crepe, crumpling up the wrapper and shooting it into the nearest trashcan before he turned to face Yori head on. She took a tentative bite of her own sweet, hoping that the chocolate would make her feel better, and got only subpar results. “So meanwhile in Gehenna, there’s Satan, who’s the big bad, and then his kids all reign over these different areas of their own. We call them the Kings of Hell, and there’s eight of them.”

Yori already had an idea of what Shima was going to say next, and she choked on her bite of crepe before he could even fully get the words out:

“Amaimon’s the seventh prince, the King of Earth.”

* * *

Mephisto had traded out his armchair for a couch, and he was lounging across it for all it was worth from what was becoming his usual perch above the skies of True Cross Academy Town. He kept casting glances to the various parties involved, but most of his attention was on his phone for the time being. Shima was skilled enough to handle the situation with Miyamoto Yori, Amaimon and Ayane were in one piece, despite their unconventional conversation, and Whiskey was trying her best to follow through on the mission she’d stuck herself with to keep her misguided senpai safe.

And Okumura Rin was running about at the direction of what he thought were Shima’s instructions but were in fact coming from Mephisto’s own phone.

Humming to himself, Mephisto put in another message, steering Rin not towards where Shima and Miyamoto Yori, but in a wholly other direction. “Sorry, my darling Whiskey-chan, but I can’t have you interfering at this point just yet. Some important things need to happen today.” Luckily for Mephisto, the last date had put Rin in for prime candidacy to run interference, even if he didn’t expect that was the case.

The last of his falsified directions given, Mephisto tossed his phone aside (it vanished in a puff of pink smoke) and sat up, stretching out his shoulders before taking a cup from the floating tea set beside him. His umbrella demon preened from the armrest, and Mephisto let out a satisfied sigh as he took a long sip from his teacup.

“Oh no, we’re not quite done here, yet.” As far as Mephisto was concerned, they were still in the opening game. But if he’d played all his cards right for this time… A grin stretched over his face at the thought of it.

His expression never once fading, Mephisto watched as the pieces fell right into place where they belonged.

* * *

For once, Whiskey let Behemoth do as he pleased—within reason, of course. She wasn’t about to let the hobgoblin run wild, but he had a much better awareness of where Amaimon was, even when Whiskey heightened her senses, and so Behemoth was her best shot at catching up with Fukui’s stupid date before anything cataclysmic could happen.

The good news, if nothing else, was that Whiskey couldn’t feel Amaimon flexing his demonic abilities anymore, but it was also a mixed blessing. Without any output, he wouldn’t be able to cause harm, but it also made it the slightest bit trickier for Whiskey to find him. Unwilling to shut out her father’s presence over True Cross Academy Town, she hunted for the pulsing sensations of Amaimon’s presence, like looking for one specific tone of gray amongst a smattering of black and white static.

Behemoth yanked on his leash, pulling Whiskey around a street corner she hadn’t been planning on taking. Picking up the stirring of the earth beneath all the artificial material of the buildings, Whiskey agreed that the hobgoblin was on the right track and let him lead the way. They’d moved far away enough from the shopping district that the streets weren’t anywhere near as crowded, so it was easy to run without worrying about barreling other people over. Assessing the buildings around her, Whiskey tried to figure out where she was on her mental map of the town.

It had to be somewhere closer to the lower levels of True Cross Academy Town, judging by the number of residential buildings she and Behemoth were running past—many of the shopping centers wanted to get business from the students or the traffic to Mepphyland and were closer to the topside. That realization made Whiskey feel even more concerned, however; Amaimon going wild in the middle of crowded street would be a disaster, but having him level a bunch of unsuspecting people trying to enjoy a day off in their homes wasn’t much better, either.

In time, though, the neatly lined homes with their gates and front yard gardens were behind them, and a surprisingly lush park came into view. Amaimon’s presence had sharpened in her perception, and the active numbers of baby greenmen and dekalp stirring amongst the plant life were a sure sign that Amaimon had been by recently. Whiskey had the vindictive hope that he was beyond sick for the stunt he tried to pull off earlier. It would make it that much easier to kick his ass—

“Whiskey! Hey, you alright?”

Whiskey came to such an abrupt halt that she and Behemoth almost knocked each other by trying to head in different directions. She hoped that she’d misheard the voice, that it wasn’t who she thought it was. But her enhanced senses had the habit of being pretty damn accurate, and, when she turned around, she saw just about the last person she wanted to get involved with her mess: one boy, out of breath, in his school uniform despite it being a day off, and running at her at full speed—

“_Rin?!_”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Thanks to her friends’ hard work with researching, Ayane knew a lot about the different places in True Cross Academy Town, but there being a park had slipped her mind. It sounded vaguely familiar—or at the very least vaguely logical—but that was only after a bit of thinking. Considering that Amaimon’s interests had mostly centered around eating at every possible restaurant, it made sense that the place had slipped her mind.

Though the season was starting to move towards autumn, the day was still warm, and the sky above was clear, giving plenty of sunlight to the area. A multitude of trees and other plants looked as if they’d been transplanted out of spring itself with how vibrant they appeared. Some distance away, Ayane could see a small (and most likely artificial) pond, and she thought there were a couple of sports areas that Abe might have mentioned once. The only thing that gave away that they were still in True Cross Academy Town was the unerasable structure of the rest of the city reaching even higher up into the sky It was all very pretty.

It would just help if Ayane knew why she was there.

_Fight me, Ayane. If you win, I’ll do whatever you want._

Amaimon hadn’t even spoken the words a full half hour ago, and they echoed through Ayane’s mind. That Amaimon had gone into one of his more silent stretches wasn’t helping matters. They’d simply excused themselves from the restaurant they were in, and Amaimon had shoved his hands into his pockets and lead the way with a slight slouch. The only thing that could make him look more like a classic gang leader was if he had a branch secured between his teeth and a pompadour.

Getting tired of letting her nerves get the best of her, Ayane sucked in a breath and took a few larger steps so that she wasn’t lagging slightly behind. “Amaimon-san, what are we doing here?” She enjoyed spending time outside (kind of a requirement when you were a tennis player), but she had the feeling that a park hadn’t been on the list just for the sake of getting some fresh air.

Amaimon’s electric blue eyes swiveled over to Ayane, but he didn’t break his stride. “Because it’s easiest place to be alone.”

Ayane was about to retort that a public park in the middle of a nice day on the weekend was easily one of the _worst_ places to get some privacy, but then she noticed that Amaimon was right. As far as she could tell, there wasn’t a single other person out and about, and they’d even wandered in far enough that no noise leaked in from the streets. Not impossible, but still odd. If it weren’t for the fact that they were in real life, Ayane would have suspected they were in some spooky situation that Yori liked to write about or Ryouichi would have gushed about from one of his many fandoms.

_Fight me, Ayane. If you win, I’ll do whatever you want._

The words were so straightforward that it was impossible to interpret them any other way—but Ayane would be damned if she wouldn’t try. Whether Amaimon followed them or not, he had to have an idea of proper behavior—Margeret’s own behavior was reflection enough that manners were an important trait in their family.

_Is he…really serious?_

If he was, Ayane didn’t know what she’d do about it.

She didn’t want to feel anything like that again, didn’t want to acknowledge how simple it had been beneath her hands, how quickly and quaintly she’d caused the _snap_, felt the _break, heard the—_

“Now,” Amaimon said, turning to face her, looking impossibly regal for his tattered clothes and otherwise punk appearance, “we’re going to fight.” Ayane had already stopped walking, more focused on abating the trembling sensation in her fingers. Some instinctual part of her brain that she’d worked so hard to shut down had reared, like a predator arising from hibernation. She stared at him, trying to get a read on his expression, but only receiving the same placid look as ever. His stance shifted, just a few millimeters, but Ayane still had enough of her awareness left to tell that, underneath his casual demeanor, he could easily spring into action. “Come on, Ayane. Let’s go.”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Ayane said, the sensation of the asshole’s nose from earlier easily crunching under the force of her punch tingling along her knuckles. “_Why_ do you want to do this? This—this isn’t—” _–what you normally do on dates,_ her brain lamely finished, though it wasn’t like Amaimon had over outright said that was what this gathering was. She changed tactics. “You said it yourself that I can take care of myself. This won’t prove anything!”

Amaimon tilted his head, listening, not fully seeming to understand where Ayane was coming from. “Of course it will,” he said, as plainly as ever. “Aniue said that you cared for me—” Ayane almost choked on _nothing_, which would have been exactly what she needed when she was already losing ground “—so if you can fight me and win, then I’ll know you’ll be able to protect yourself without hesitation.” He paused a second longer, his tongue flitting out for a second like he was licking up traces of candy residue from his lips. “Why _don’t_ you want to do this?”

Ayane may have burst out shouting again if it hadn’t been for the genuine confusion tucked into the layers of Amaimon’s monotone—it was subtle, yes, but still there. He genuinely didn’t _understand_ her hesitation, why she might not want to just turn their casual outing into some sort of brawl. Because that impression she had from earlier wasn’t gone: that Amaimon would gladly turn a scuffle into something much worse if allowed.

_He already understands the answer that society has to that question, that violence isn’t always necessary, that we should be peaceful when we can,_ she realized. _He doesn’t want to hear that. He wants to hear _my_ answer, wants to understand _my_ hesitation._

Her fingers curled into fists, uncurled, and then curled up again once more. The memory wasn’t one that had preserved itself in all its horrifically detailed glory, wasn’t something that could paint a full flashback, especially with the years that had passed. Oh, sure, she remembered what happened, but it was more in the way that you remembered something you read in a textbook. Sterile and simply black characters on a white background, ones that only had meaning when you combined them together under certain circumstances. Distant, like it had happened in a daydream.

She could have convinced herself it was a daydream if it weren’t for the one piece of memory that had stuck to her, the sound still echoing in places where it didn’t belong: a piece of chalk breaking in half, the particularly harsh sound of a tennis ball slamming into the court with great force, a clap of hands at just the right angle in a quiet room.

The snap of a bone between her hands.

Ayane sucked in a breath, the fresh air reminding her of where she was, of the boy standing in front of her, expecting an answer. “I don’t want to fight you,” she said, sounding much calmer than she had ever expected herself to, “because I’m not good at holding back.” Ayane mustered up a smile that must have looked as plastic as she felt. “Even when I try my best to be careful, I end up hurting people. Bones break, people end up unconscious. All the good stuff. And well,” Ayane hesitated a moment, but pressed forward, her body still having the audacity to blush as she said the words, “because I do care about you, Amaimon-san, and there’s no one I’d want to hurt less. I don’t…”

_Would it kill you to even bother thinking about what you’re doing to other people when you go all out like that?!_ _You break them, that’s what!_

“…want to break you, too.”

She didn’t want to be the cause of that ever again.

Though the rest of Ayane felt like she was still standing and stable thanks to pure willpower alone, she knew it was fragile at best. That if she moved, the slightest amount, then she’d completely collapse. So she didn’t move, only keeping her gaze on Amaimon, meeting his golden-green eyes with as much of herself that she could muster. That crease had formed in his brow again, that subtle little wrinkle before he dipped his head the slightest bit, his gaze directed at his hands. There was a contemplative pause.

And then Amaimon’s hand moved fast enough that Ayane almost didn’t catch the movement, his long, dark nails cutting a blur through the bright Sunday afternoon.

Seconds later, red blood spilled out in neat little lines across his forearm.

* * *

“_Rin?!_”

Whiskey was staring at Rin with an expression that indicated he was one of the last people that Whiskey wanted to see right now—and Rin tried not to think too hard about that as he assessed his friend’s condition. Whiskey seemed a bit out of breath, but his status as a half-demon meant he had plenty of stamina to work with, so that would be fine. Of course, Whiskey’s healing was also accelerated, so that meant if he’d had any minor injuries lately, Rin would have had a hard time telling. The consolation was that Whiskey’s clothes were still intact, which meant that whatever issue he’d been facing wasn’t too serious.

There was the matter of Behemoth tugging at the leash Whiskey had him on, but that was far less of a issue than the concept that there was trouble. Though it was mostly on instinct, the past several months since he’d awakened to being Satan’s son had at least given Rin a crash course in _priorities._

“Are you alright?” Rin asked again, sucking in quick breaths to recover from his own mad sprint that he’d been on since he left the school grounds. “Shima said there was trouble, so I came to check on you—wait, where’s Shima, anyway?” Rin tossed a glance around, but there wasn’t any sight of him or Kuro. There were a few greenmen and the weird flower demons out and about, but that was it for any other signs of life.

“_Shima_,” Whiskey said under his breath in a tone that didn’t bode well for their mutual classmate. Shaking his head, Whiskey shifted gears. “I left Shima back with Miyamoto-san.” Rin didn’t have the slightest clue who Miyamoto was, but he determined it didn’t matter. Again: _priorities_. “What are you doing here, though?”

“I just _said_.” Rin knew he was almost whining, but he couldn’t help it. Between everything going on with the exorcist and ordinary parts of his life, he would have felt like he was at the end of his rope if he hadn’t reached that point ages ago—and the end of the end of his rope, maybe? “I was worried about you, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.” _And maybe also see if you would tell me why the hell there’s some senpai running around with your super-dangerous uncle because you’ve been keeping _that_ a secret from me— _Wow, that sounded _awful_ when he put it into words like that.

Whiskey gave Rin a smile, and he’d spent enough time around Whiskey and Yukio to tell when it was forced. It was that polite response ingrained in them, the one that said, _I don’t need you to butt into my problems so please buy this._ “Well, I promise I’m fine. I’m just…a little busy.” Whiskey tugged on Behemoth’s leash, as if to show the hobgoblin off. Behemoth lolled out his tongue in response, and Whiskey _tsk_ed as he summoned some coal tar in a blur of purple and dumped them into the waiting demon’s mouth. “Vati asked me to watch Behemoth-chan here, so, as you can expect, that’s a bit of a handful…”

_Maybe she’s received some new kind of responsibility,_ Yukio had suggested, and that seemed to be true. It just probably wasn’t the type of responsibility Yukio had been expecting when he’d brought it up.

Especially because Rin knew there was more to it, thanks to Shima. If he wanted to, he could have accused Whiskey of it, then and there. Cornered him into spilling the truth. But, for all that Whiskey had done, he’d never forced Rin to spill his secrets, never manipulated the resources he had available to find Rin’s secrets. He’d always asked, respected the no, and waited for Rin to be ready.

Rin wanted to keep that trust.

“Why did he want you to do that?” Rin asked, hoping that would be enough to invite Whiskey to be honest. Rin knew that Mephisto liked doing things to make people’s lives complicated, yes, but knowing that something going on with Amaimon made it obvious Whiskey was making up excuses. “I—Your old man had me over for dinner the other night, and he had Amaimon and his pet hobgoblin all locked up. Why’s he out and about?”

Whiskey grimaced, apparently unaware of Rin and Mephisto’s dinner escapade. Given how distant Whiskey had been lately, it wasn’t all that much of a surprise. “Rin, I know I haven’t been the best friend lately, but this is not the time—”

“Why not?” Rin took a step forward, and Behemoth scuttled behind Whiskey’s legs, hiding from the frustration Rin was trying his best to hold back. “If you’re just looking after the king of the hobgoblins over here, it shouldn’t be that hard to talk to me.”

_Please talk to me, Whiskey. I’ve been kept in the dark my whole life. Not you, too._

His expression twisted with regret for a moment, but then Whiskey slipped on that emotionless mask again. “You’re right, there’s more going on, but I can’t talk about it.” It was a flimsy excuse; despite not letting them interfere, Mephisto hadn’t had any problems letting Rin and Shima know about Amaimon. Whiskey sighed. “If you keep this up, I’m going to have to do something I’ll regret. I don’t want to go that far.”

It had been months ago, at the beginning of the school year, but Rin still remembered their conversation in the dorm, the relief he’d felt at realizing that there was someone else like him around, someone that understood. Someone who hadn’t judged him when he’d mentioned how he couldn’t control his strength when he was younger.

_But it still hurt, and I still hate a lot of people sometimes, _Whiskey had said, looking vulnerable with a knee hugged to his chest._ I just don’t hurt them the way I used to._

He didn’t want to hurt people anymore. So he was careful about his words, his actions. It wasn’t always perfect, but Whiskey _tried_, tried so hard that Rin was sometimes worried that he’d break.

Just like—

“You’re just like Yukio,” Rin said, the realization spilling out of him in clumsy words. Whiskey’s mask broke, his expression twisting into something close to a snarl. But Rin had already started, and there was no taking something like that back. “You’re pulling the exact same shit he is! Going around like you can handle everything, not opening up to anyone. Taking all your problems on yourself.” Rin clenched his fists, hurt and anger mingling into one, raging wave of emotion as he shouted, “You’re the one who reached out to me, dammit! You said we didn’t have to do this by ourselves, that we could support each other. So why won’t you tell me anything?”

“Because you don’t deserve to deal with my problems on top of everything you have going on!” Whiskey shouted right back, more coal tars spilling out from the depth of his Submission as his calm shattered. “I don’t know if you noticed, Rin, but you could die just because the Grigori got together, collectively shrugged, and decided that keeping you around was too much of a hassle. It would be that fucking _easy!_”

“Yeah, I know that!” Rin pointed at Whiskey, not willing to back down in the slightest. “That doesn’t mean I can’t at least _listen_ to you when you have problems. Because I’m pretty damn sure that’s what friends do, dumbass!”

“Except you don’t ever just listen, you _act_!” Whiskey threw back, the distance closing between them as they continued to argue. “The moment I tell you about what I’m dealing with, you’ll try to get involved.” Rin couldn’t fault Whiskey on that one, considering that he _was_ already involved, but that wasn’t the point in the slightest. “But this isn’t a situation you can change, no matter what. So you’d be helping by just _dropping it and letting me be!_”

Rin let out an irritated yell that only took a fraction of his frustrations out of his system. He grabbed onto Whiskey’s shoulders, shaking him with enough force that would have made a non-half-demon dizzy. “I’d leave you alone if that’s what you really wanted!”

_It’s kind of awful, isn’t it? That even though so many horrible things happened, I’m still grateful that I have the friends I do?_

Whiskey pulled his head back, and up close it was so easy to feel how his demonic energy was leaking out, unreserved, how his pupils had turned to serpentine slits, the fangs sharpening in his mouth, his ears elongating into more pronounced points. Rin had approximately two seconds to notice the details before Whiskey’s forehead slammed into his, bringing with it a stinging pain and spots dancing across his vision.

Rin’s vocal cords formed an unintelligible sound of pain, and Whiskey had already slipped out of his grip. With Behemoth following along, Whiskey had already tried to sprint off further into the park. Rin blinked himself back to normal vision and followed after, regretting that he didn’t have as precise a control over his demon boosts without drawing the Koma Sword.

_Whiskey actually hit me. I mean, yeah, he has a temper, but I’ve never seen him snap like that._ Actually, Rin had hardly ever seen Whiskey _really_ fight. Sure, he did what was needed for class and exorcist missions, and he hadn’t slacked off when it came to the issues at Mepphyland and in Kyoto. But all of that had felt restrained, still calculated to some degree.

_If I had to keep all that controlled, I would burst._

Whiskey didn’t need to be calculated and controlled all the time.

Whiskey needed to be _free_.

So Rin followed through on the first idea to pop through his mind and picked up his running speed, gaining ground on Whiskey until he was in the right range to launch off with a jump and tackle his fellow half-demon to the ground.

* * *

“Amaimon’s the seventh prince, the King of Earth.”

To Renzo, those words weren’t big news; plenty of exorcist families crammed some form of basic knowledge into their children’s heads at a young age, and Renzo—though he tried not to show it—had a pretty decent ability to retain information. He could recite the names of the Demon Kings of Hell by the time most other brats were still trying to learn how to write hiragana.

For Miyamoto Yori, on the other hand, the reveal was much bigger news. Yori could _see_, but she didn’t have the resources to understand what she was seeing. Choking on her crepe was a reasonable reaction.

After all, one of her close friends was currently and cluelessly out on a date with said demon king.

“So, yeah, Amaimon is powerful,” Renzo said, mostly to dispel the silence. From talking to her for just a short amount of time (and his general knowledge of most of the girls of True Cross Academy), it wasn’t hard to tell that Yori was a thinker. Leaving her alone for too long in her own head didn’t seem like the best plan to keep her from having a panic attack. “So we’re in an interesting position here. Because if he was prone to cause problems with Ayane-chan, I don’t think he’d be able to walk around so freely.” Mephisto had already proven he would sew chaos wherever it suited him, but he at least did it in a capacity where survival was likely. Tossing a feral Amaimon at a non-exorcist in the middle of Mephisto’s precious academy town? Not likely.

_So then the question is what in the world _is_ he planning? What does Mephisto get from this?_

Questions Renzo would never receive a straight answer to if he asked and that he didn’t have nearly enough information to figure out on his own.

“S-so what’s that supposed to mean?” Yori asked, doing a stellar job at holding her composure for all the information she’d just had launched at her in the past twenty minutes. “Is Ayane-san going to be safe or not?!”

“Deep breaths,” Renzo said, and Yori, realizing she was approaching the tipping point into hysterics, followed his advice. Not quite feeling it but not wanting to let food go to waste, Renzo stuffed the rest of his crepe and half-chewed it before swallowing. “Considering who’s organizing this whole shebang, I’d say that Fukui-senpai is pretty safe, especially if Margeret-chan is looking out for her.” There was no one else in their cram school class more suited to handing Amaimon if something did go wrong. “I’m not going to lie and say that something couldn’t happen; we gotta stay realistic. But if nothing else, I think we’re going to be okay.”

Yori leveled a stare at him that gave Izumo-chan’s glare a run for its money. “And what’s your reasoning for that?”

“Well.” Renzo crumbled up his crepe wrapper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert in Amaimon’s personality or anything—” because, honestly, how much of constant resting apathetic face could you call a personality? “—but he’s kind of particular from what I understand. Like, if something doesn’t catch his interest, he won’t bother.”

“Then Ayane-san?” Yori asked, sounding a bit hopeful but still wary.

Renzo nodded at the implication. “This is the second time he’s gone out with her, and it wasn’t forced at all.” The rest was just Renzo’s intuition, but just maybe… He gave Yori his broadest smile. “He’s at least having fun with her, though it’s not easy to tell. Either way, that’s going to be a good thing in the long run.”

Yori didn’t seem fully convinced. Hell, Renzo didn’t feel fully convinced, and he was the one saying it. But keeping a straight face while bullshitting was a skill he had perfected down to damn near art, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be able to pull it off now, forget the metaphorical sword or whatever swinging over his head.

“What I’m saying, Yori-chan,” Renzo continued with all the cheer he could muster, “is that, in the end, you worrying about this situation isn’t going to help anything out. Just because you can see demons and stuff doesn’t make you automatically responsible for taking care of that. That you can leave to the exorcists like me and Margeret-chan.” He pointed a thumb as his chest and winked. “I promise I’ll keep an eye on what’s happening for you, so don’t go thinking too much about it, okay? How about I make sure you get back to the school safe, and then I’ll let you know how today went once Margeret-chan gets back to me?”

He might have been pushing a little too hard, but it was still a fact. Unless Miyamoto Yori expressed an explicit interest in becoming an exorcist, she didn’t have to get mixed up in this affair. Even if she did join the True Cross’s ranks, what then? No beginner could handle a case like the King of Earth, and especially not with the King of Time and Space Backing him.

_It’s far better if you stay out of this, Yori-chan._

And as Yori thought it over and hesitantly agreed, Renzo couldn’t help but wonder why he was trying so hard.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Despite all her reluctance on the matter, Whiskey thought herself pretty decent when it came to combat. She also placed a decent amount of pride in her speed and her demonic senses, which were useful when it came to detecting incoming attacks. It was that combination that made it all the more surprising when she tumbled to the ground, colliding with enough of an impact that Behemoth’s leash almost slipped out of her grasp.

_Rin actually…tackled me?_

Considering that she’d just headbutted him, it was probably a fair retaliation. Still, it wasn’t a move she’d expected. Him trying to chase after her, sure, but knocking her down? There was enough momentum in the blow that they rolled across the grass a couple times, and it was a miracle that the two didn’t end up tangled in Behemoth’s leash. The hobgoblin grunted a few times in excitement, his instincts plus the training he’d received from Amaimon making the connection between “battle” and “playtime.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Whiskey more shouted than asked, trying to spit the taste of dirt and grass off her tongue. Even without his blue flames out, Rin’s temperature always ran _warm_, and she could feel the heat pressed into her back where Rin was half-heartedly trying to keep her from escaping. Whiskey knew her demonic aura was starting to boil over with her temper, but she still maintained a sense of control. _Proper decorum,_ Vati liked to lecture,_ is always a must, Whiskey-chan._ “If you keep this up, you’re going to stop me from doing what I need to do.”

“I don’t care!” Rin said, sounding every bit like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

Every second was another opportunity for Amaimon to decide that Ayane was boring and to find some other way to entertain himself. Based on what Whiskey had felt earlier, his powers weren’t fully sealed, just buried under enough deterrents that it would be very unpleasant for Amaimon to try. What if he hit a critical point where he determined it was _worth_ that risk, though?

Memories from the past few months overlapped with those from the end of middle school, and Whiskey bit down hard on her tongue, preferring the thought of tasting blood over bile, even as she still struggled.

Her elbow made a hard collision with some soft spot—the throat, judging by Rin’s garbled sound of pain—which, sorry not sorry—and Whiskey gained enough momentum to at least twist herself so there weren’t blades of grass poking into her nostrils anymore. “I said, let me go!”

“Are you going to let me come with you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then no!” Rin kept trying to keep Whiskey’s hands from landing any blows, but he wasn’t fighting her with all his strength. Kurikara was still inside the kendo bag Rin totted around for cover. Whiskey could boost her own demonic aura in a few seconds and incapacitate him so he _couldn’t_ follow. “I’d get it if this was some top secret thing. But it’s not, ‘cause you would have said so if it was. So there’s no reason I can’t help you out with it. Friends help each other, dammit!”

Whiskey’s heart ached. _Oh,_ how she _envied_ Rin. Envied his honest nature, that didn’t care about outer appearances. Envied his ability to jump in to help others, even when he was in trouble. Those attributes made her jealous and made her like him even more.

If he kept going, she’d break down.

_He can’t get involved with this. Yes, it’s his choice. But he shouldn’t have to clean up after my messes. So the only way to get him to stop is—_

Whiskey hated it, but she liked to think she understood Rin enough that it would make an impression. So she said fuck it, shook the limiters off of her soul, reached into the fresh sources of power she’d picked up for her Submission when she’d gone with Vati to Russia, and let her demonic abilities crackle the air with their presence. Her muscles pulsed with enough strength to throw Rin off, and he sailed through the air over Behemoth’s head.

“Fine,” Whiskey said in what was much more of a spit than actual words. “If you wanna play stubborn shonen protagonist, _fine_. You can either let me go, or I can kick your ass into letting me go. Your pick, Rin.”

Part of her hoped that Rin would relent, that Rin would let the whole thing go—at least until a point when Whiskey had calmed down enough to have a rational conversation and her uncle wasn’t potentially at risk for setting off an earthquake. But all Rin did was give her the unfiltered and unrelenting grin of a street punk ready to face the next poor sucker approaching to try and take his title.

“Sure,” Rin said, punching one fist into the opposite hand, “let’s do it.”

Whiskey almost faltered right then and there she was so thrown off by his casual attitude. “You sure look happy for someone that’s about to get an ass-kicking.”

“Well, yeah. That’s ‘cause you’ve been stressed. Fighting’s a great way to blow off some steam.” Rin rolled his shoulders, not reaching for Kurikara, but definitely tensing up enough that he was ready. “I heal pretty quick, you know. So you’re gonna have to work at it if you want to take me down.”

_This little—_

Whiskey yanked hard on Behemoth’s leash, pulling the excited hobgoblin straight off the ground. “_Submit!_” she called, and soon the demon had tucked itself away inside her inner pocket dimension, where should call him out later. Thankfully, she’d caught Behemoth enough off guard that he hadn’t been able to resist. Her tail lashed through the air, and she could see Rin’s own starting to bristle with something like anticipation. “Last chance to take it back, Rin.”

But Rin only grinned, and Whiskey sprung into action.

* * *

The smell of his own blood was enough to bring back less than pleasant memories from inside Mephisto’s prison of nothingness, but Amaimon pushed those thoughts aside. His claws were razor sharp enough even without enhancement that his skin split into clean lines, each of them dripping red. Ayane went pale through her tan, and a terror he hadn’t expected slipped onto her expression.

“Amaimon-san!” Ayane closed the distance between them, tentatively reaching for his arm before hesitating, then abandoning whatever had held her back as she took his hand in hers. Amaimon let her, trying to process exactly why she was so scared while she got a good look at the wound. Neat lines, no serration or anything, barely skin deep. It was a laughable injury for anyone in Gehenna, and especially for someone with Amaimon’s power. “Are you alright? No, no, you’re bleeding so you’re not—You can’t just go and hurt yourself like that!” Ayane finally shouted, though she sounded undecided on whether to worry about him or scold him.

“Look,” Amaimon said without much inflection, and Ayane bit her lip but obeyed, almost too shocked to ask questions. Amaimon had to remind himself that she was a human, simple and fragile. No matter that she obviously had fighting experience, her idea of risk was completely different to his. It was a line that usually separated the weak from the strong.

_But Ayane’s not…_

Amaimon’s natural healing capability finally kicked in, and his skin pieced itself together without so much as a scab or a scar. There were still lines of blood on his arm, sure, but nothing too awful. Ayane’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open, but she didn’t say anything. For the first time, Amaimon actually wanted to know how to understand things in humans besides fear.

“You—the injury—it just—” Ayane stammered, and Amaimon frowned. Maybe he’d gone too far? But Mephisto’s spells didn’t play nice with him mentioning anything about Gehenna—just saying the name before had put him off his appetite. What else was he supposed to do? Ayane’s fingers drew lines over Amaimon’s forearm, tracing where the wound had once been. When was the last time Amaimon had felt skin to skin contact that wasn’t violence? “They were there. I saw them. But they’re gone.”

Amaimon considered explaining demonic healing, and the same nausea from Mephisto’s spells threatened to push everything he’d eaten since that morning up his throat. He thought about saying it anyway, because it was the best way to get Ayane to let loose. He wanted to see her fight, but he couldn’t while she still thought he was breakable, so if she _understood_—

A faint sting erupted on his cheek, and the sound that belatedly registered with his ears what that of a smack.

“You _asshole_!”

Ayane was trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down, but the scowl and flush of anger on her face seemed to imply that wasn’t working out so well. Amaimon’s blood was still dabbled over her fingers, and some of it had painted fresh dampness over his cheek where she’d slapped him. Still too confused to even know where to start, Amaimon stared at Ayane and the tears welling up in the corner of her hazel eyes.

“You can’t just scare me like that!” she shouted, her breaths and shoulders shaking. Still, the politeness in her voice had vanished, as if it had never been there in the first place. “Playing a trick like that isn’t funny. I don’t want you to joke about hurting yourself ever again, you understand me?!”

At some point or another over the centuries, Mephisto had said something about how humans’ minds would fill in the holes whenever encountered with things that they couldn’t understand. Amaimon hadn’t understood it at all, then, not at all concerned with how humans thought, but it seemed relevant now. In Ayane’s peaceful little human life, people couldn’t just regenerate their injuries, so she saw it as some trick of the eye instead.

Amaimon’s silence didn’t do Ayane’s mood any favors, and she pulled back her arm to deliver a punch to his diaphragm, her knuckles making the barest of indents in Amaimon’s demon muscle—though not for lack of trying. “I asked you a question, Amaimon. Now answer!”

“Okay,” he said before he processed what she was so worked up about. “I won’t do it again.” Probably a smart move, since he doubted Mephisto would let him get away with such a thing a second time. He missed Gehenna, where things were simpler, none of this mind game crap, but he also didn’t want to go back just yet. Changing tactics, Amaimon pointed a finger at where Ayane’s fist was still pressed up against his chest. “You were trying with that hit, right?”

Ayane bared her teeth and narrowed her eyes into a glare that most people wouldn’t ever dare to level at the King of Earth. “Since it seems to be the only way to get your attention, yes.” She didn’t sound happy about it at all, but Amaimon felt a thrill of something like excitement stir inside him.

“Then you should get it.” Underneath all the fragile human layers of politeness she put up, Ayane was a warrior. She still seemed wary, but there wasn’t a complete reluctance in her like before. “You can’t break me, Ayane,” he said, and her eyes widened, making it clear the tears that had come beforehand weren’t gone. “And anyone you could break isn’t worth your time.” She deserved to stand on the same field as people who could fight with her, could give her a challenge, not held back by all the silly little _rules_ and _morals_ that humans had pressed upon them since birth.

_If you’d been born a demon,_ Amaimon thought, not knowing what the rest of the sentence was.

Ayane stared at Amaimon a bit longer before hurriedly looking away to scrub at her eyes. Amaimon continued to stare, because he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Normally, when humans started crying around him, there was some other type of battle to distract him. Further, some tiny part of his mind didn’t _like_ seeing her cry.

Amaimon sighed, because he didn’t want to say the words, but he knew he wasn’t getting what he wanted like this. “We don’t have to fight today,” he said with a faint huff, “but one day you’re going to challenge me. And I’ll still do what you want if you win.”

And Ayane nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Amaimon-san.”

* * *

“My, my,” Mephisto said, sprawled out face down on a reclining beach chair with a pair of pink opera glasses in his hand. “Self-restraint is a new look on you, little brother. I’m almost impressed.” Then again, the outcome of that conversation was well within the range he wanted to see, so it wasn’t like he was about to complain.

No, if there was anything to complain about…

Mephisto turned so that he could see a completely different drama. The forms of Rin and Whiskey reflected in the lenses of his (admittedly unnecessary, unless you counted the aesthetic value) opera glasses, the occasional flash of purple or blazing blue coming out as the demonic energy leaked out in bursts. “Now, Okumura-kun not having any sense of self control, I understand, but I know I’ve taught you better, Whiskey-chan, my dear. That Okumura-kun sure is turning into a bad influence, isn’t he?” Despite his words, Mephisto grinned, his bat parasol mirroring the expression.

“Well, if nothing else, we can’t let that get too out of hand, can we?” Mephisto snapped his fingers, erecting a separate time/space for Rin and Whiskey to inhabit while they worked out their problems. He _liked_ True Cross Academy Town when it wasn’t burnt down to the ground, thank you very much. And stopping the scuffle would only…

_This time, for sure,_ he thought, though he didn’t let himself complete that all-too optimistic wish.

If the smile slipped off Mephisto Pheles’s face for a moment, there was no one around to see it.

* * *

After everything he’d been through in the past five months—not to mention all the years beforehand—Rin thought he was qualified to tell whenever a scuffle was a real fight. This, what he and Whiskey were doing, wasn’t fighting so much as flailing. Sure, there were teeth and claws and snarling punches and a bit of blood, but it wasn’t really anything you could call serious combat.

This was something closer to a street brawl, or even two animals challenging each other, with none of the refinement or serious force you could really consider a _fight_.

_Okay, maybe some people would disagree,_ Rin thought as Whiskey landed a blow that knocked one of his teeth loose, _but compared to fighting Amaimon or the Impure King, this is nothing._

Whiskey had proven he was capable of pulling even higher-ranked demons into his Submission. And Rin, half-human as we was, still had enough demon in him that that power might even be able to suck him in. Hell, since he was only so much as fighting on instinct rather than any active mental resistance, it might not even take that much effort for Whiskey to seal him away. But he wasn’t doing that.

Instead, they were tumbling across the grass, rolling across the park as they continued to fail at each other. Rin might have worried about his uniform getting stained if it weren’t for the fact that he and Whiskey had both already gotten blood over their clothes. Any wounds had already healed themselves, and the fresh ones stitched themselves back together almost as quickly as they formed. It was a blur, really, a series of exchanges that only really registered in flashes of action and the occasional pain.

Rin hadn’t fought like this, just for the hell of it, since before he’d awoken to his powers. And while he’d started the whole thing for Whiskey’s sake, Rin realized that he needed it, too, pieces of him relaxing that he hadn’t even realized were tense until now.

_Do you feel that relief, too, Whiskey? Are you feeling any better?_

There wasn’t an opportunity to ask, let alone get any words out. Whiskey was fierce and more than willing to take advantage of any openings that Rin left open. Sure, he doubted any of them would be _fatal_, but they’d still hurt a lot, and Rin wanted to last long enough for Whiskey to blow off at least _some_ steam. So Rin struck back when he could, not bothering to hold back because he couldn’t afford to. Every now and then, he’d hit the ground on his back, feel the press of Kurikara secure in its kendo bag against his spine, a reminder of how much harder this fight could go, if they both decided to take things seriously.

And then he would have to dodge so Whiskey’s claws would only graze his cheek instead of take out his eye, and everything else would just sort of stop mattering after a while.

After what felt like hours but could have easily just been a fraction of one, Rin started to wonder if he was going to have the energy to even _eat_ before he passed out. His stomach panged in hunger at the thought, and that was distraction enough for him to be far too late in realizing that Whiskey had snagged his tail with one hand while almost tearing a fresh hole in the back of his shirt with the other.

“Enough of this alreadyyy!”

Rin didn’t know what the move was called or if it even had a name, but that mattered little in the face of the fact that Whiskey had hefted him up and thrown him across the park with just enough force held back that Rin _didn’t_ end up splattered into a tree. He tried to pull himself back up to attack while still trying to suck in a breath, but Whiskey had also thrown himself to the ground, leaving both of them to stare up at the motionless clouds in the sky while they lied in the grass.

“Were you serious, earlier?” Whiskey asked between breaths. “About wanting to fight because you thought it would help blow off steam?”

“Well, yeah,” Rin said through a chuckle. He used a forearm to wipe the sweat from his face, then just let himself enjoy the sensation of lying on the ground. “Maybe I shouldn’t brag about it, but I’ve been in plenty of fights before, you know. And I know that when I try to hold back, I just get frustrated, so I wanted you to have a safe place to go all out and burn off some steam.”

Whiskey grunted, but it turned into a short laugh partway through. “You’re a piece of work, Rin,” he said, but it wasn’t a serious insult by any means. Besides, it was true. “Still, I don’t wanna admit it, but maybe I needed that. There’s just been…” Whiskey sighed. “There’s the Seven Mysteries, and then there’s the mess with the True Cross that Vati took me to see.”

“Whatever’s going on with that senpai and Amaimon?”

Whiskey moved fast enough to make an audible rustle in the grass, and Rin only caught the tail end of Whiskey’s expression when he appeared in Rin’s vision. “You knew,” Whiskey said at a whisper.

“Yeah,” Rin answered in a croak. “Not everything, but that something was going on and that you were involved. But I—” Rin looked away, half-heartedly staring down a somehow not destroyed flowerbed nearby “—wanted you to tell me first.”

“Ah.” Whiskey didn’t say anything for a while, and Rin couldn’t figure out anything else to add. “Sorry.”

“Nah, you don’t gotta.” Another laugh slipped out of him, and Whiskey’s expression shifted into confusion. “I was just… You’re supposed to be smarter than me, Whiskey. We’re gonna be in trouble if this keeps up.”

Whiskey spluttered out a laugh, too, though it was somewhat watery. “We’re both already in trouble, silly.” He sighed and adjusted so he was sitting cross legged. Rin sat up himself so they could easily see eye to eye. Whiskey’s smile was strained. “Something big’s coming, Rin. Something the True Cross is even worried about. And I don’t think it’s going to stay away from us, either.” Whiskey paused once more. “If you already know, I guess there’s no point in hiding it, though.”

“Uh, yeah?” Rin said, who’d been more focused on giving a listening ear than participating in the conversation. All the politics mumbo jumbo wasn’t his strength at all. But Whiskey just seemed more at ease than before.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll let you know about what’s going on with Amaimon and Fukui-senpai.”

* * *

When the day ran out and Amaimon returned to the spot where he was supposed to meet up with Mephisto’s kid, he didn’t find any trace of the brat around. He did, however, sense Mephisto’s presence, and that was more than enough to convince Amaimon to stay put instead of running off to his own devices. Then again, so long as he was in Ayane’s presence, his activity would probably just be finding something else to snack on, but even that didn’t sound so bad.

Especially when in comparison to—

Amaimon bit down on his thumbnail hard enough to make it creak, and Ayane gave him a concerned look. “Is everything alright?”

“She’s late,” Amaimon said, not feeling like dwelling on it more, and he shook off Ayane’s apparent confusion. “Don’t worry about it.” He somewhat expected Ayane to run off back home or whatever she needed to do, but she stayed standing by him. “You’re not going to leave?” Whiskey had been insistent on getting Ayane back to the school by some curfew or whatever, so Amaimon had figured it was a big deal.

Amaimon’s ears had no problem picking up the jump in Ayane’s heart rate, and her cheeks seemed to tint pinker than the light from the sunset would allow. “Ah, well, that’s—” She caught herself from stammering before starting over. “You… I appreciated what you said before. So I figured that I could at least wait with you a bit longer. Well, if that’s okay, Amaimon-san.”

“It’s not okay.” Ayane looked stunned before Amaimon continued, “I don’t want to hear you calling me ‘-san’ anymore.”

“Huh? But, uh, like, Amaimon-kun, then?”

“No.” The color on Ayane’s face flushed even darker than before in a way that would have been much more fitting if she’d been exerting herself in a fight than just having a conversation. Amaimon hunched over a bit so he could get a better look at Ayane. “Earlier. You just called me by my name without anything else. Do that again.”

Ayane waved her hands. “A-are you sure? I mean, uh, I guess other languages don’t all do that sort of thing, but if I took off any honorifics from your name, then…” Ayane trailed off, and Amaimon waited for the explanation to follow. Sure, he could understand what the things meant, but adding all sorts of tags just seemed like a waste of time to him. “That would mean you and I are…close.”

Amaimon tilted his head. “Aren’t we?”

“Not enough for that!” Ayane’s fist hit Amaimon’s shoulder, but it was much more of a gentle bump than her earlier blow. Still not understanding, Amaimon frowned. He called her by just her name, and she hadn’t made any objections, so what was the difference? Recognizing his expression, Ayane let out a groan. “Sheesh, you’re not going to let this go, are you? Fine then! But you don’t get to go and take it back, got it?” Not even thinking such a thing, Amaimon nodded his agreement. “Alright. I’ll be sure to call you that next time, A—Amaimon!”

A vial of tension that Amaimon hadn’t even realized he’d been holding on to slipped straight down and out of his spine. “Ayane.”

Ayane had somehow worked herself to a point of near hyperventilation—and the sound of a ringtone from her pocket quickly snatched her attention, and she got into a rapid-fire discussion with whoever was on the other end. The conversation was done in the span of a few minutes, and Ayane spun back around to dip her head.

“Sorry,” she said, “my roommate was worrying about me since I’ve been out a while. I wanted to stay with you, but I should…”

Amaimon shrugged. “Go ahead.” Normally, he would want to extend this moment as long as possible, extend his freedom, but Mephisto was still nearby, and it didn’t do good to keep Aniue waiting. “Another time,” Amaimon said, hoping there _would_ be another time, that whatever game Mephisto was playing wasn’t already over.

The smile that blossomed on Ayane’s expression was so unrestrained that Amaimon thought he could almost feel one forming on his own face. “Yeah! Just let me know when you’re free again, okay? I’ll go ahead and keep my schedule open. Alright—talk to you later, Amaimon!”

And with a wave and a happy laugh, Ayane sprinted off. She’d barely slipped out of sight before Mephisto’s presence drew closer, and then he was there, white suit and flamboyant gestures and all. “I’m impressed,” Mephisto said, barely constraining a grin. “You seemed to be having rather a lot of fun right there, weren’t you?”

Amaimon let out a noncommittal sound. Ayane was enjoyable. Normally, Amaimon didn’t think much beyond that. But there was a nub of curiosity starting to take root inside of him, and that was something that could only grow if you gave it the time. Did he want to bother, to pursue something else with what little he could manage? Could it possibly be a different cure to boredom than he would normally consider?

“I want,” he said instead of an answer to Mephisto’s question, “to learn more about humans.”

* * *

* * *

**Mini Bonus:**

“It’s…a wall?”

Rin cocked his head at the invisible obstacle in their way, and Whiskey grit her teeth beside him as she focused her demonic senses on figuring out what the hell was the problem. She’d agreed to make up for their missed dinner opportunity by chipping in for a meal that evening, but they’d run into an issue: namely that they couldn’t get out of the park that they’d ended up fighting in.

“Kind of,” Whiskey said after a moment. “This smells like Vati’s work, so it’s probably some kind of trap box? Like a pocket dimension.” The implication that he’d noticed enough of their scuffle to actually block it off was mortifying, and Whiskey didn’t want to think of the scolding she’d get later. _No, sooner. Because I definitely don’t have the power to get out of this on my own._ “I’m going to have to call him. Sorry about this…”

“No, no, you’re not to blame. Your old man’s the one that did this.” Rin gave a reassuring smile, and Whiskey did her best to return it. “Do what you gotta do, Whiskey. I’ll wait.”

With a quick affirmative, Whiskey dug her phone from her pocket and dialed Vati’s number—only to get the disappointing response of his voicemail box. She tried a few more times, to similar results, and her increasing frequency of curse words gave Whiskey a hint as to how her progress was going. Too worn out to even try to get her composure back, Whiskey heaved a sign and dropped her forehead on Rin’s shoulder with an animalistic groan. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay! We’ll figure something out,” Rin said, doing a decent job at sounding reassuring. “Like, hey, we’re two half-demons with really strong powers. We can figure this out. Here! Let me go ahead and try to see if I can cut it open—”

They ended up waiting for Vati to bail them out.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Tilling Soil**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Yori had attempted to relax after Shima had escorted her back to the dorm, but she’d only had a little bit of success. The good news was that she’d already finished up her homework and studying before heading out for a breather, so she didn’t need to work through math problems with a heavily distracted and overwhelmed mind.

The less good news was that she’d had next to no luck sleeping. When the clock at her bedside passed over to four in the morning with only a few scattered naps in between (all of them populated with awful dreams that manifested every paranoid thought that she had in her), Yori gave it up for broke and carefully padded her way over to her desk and computer. She tended not to do much work at night because she didn’t want to disturb her roommates, but she needed the distraction, and just tucking into the novel she had reading wouldn’t be enough.

She needed the catharsis that came from _creation._

Yori kept the curtains closed, not wanting to see any of the monsters—_demons, Shima-san said they were demons_—that tended to pass by more often these days than they had at the beginning of the school year. She also didn’t put in her headphones so she could monitor how loud she was typing. At first, the characters were hesitant, but they ultimately started to come in a steady enough rhythm. Not the ultimate high of a scene coming together almost seamlessly, but a good enough pace that settled around her average and didn’t get caught on any snags.

“Oh, you’re already awake, Miyamoto-chan?”

The soft voice caught onto Yori’s attention, and she took a few more moments to finish the sentence she’d been typing before quickly saving her work and turning around in her desk chair. Paku Noriko—one of her roommates—had blearily pulled herself out of bed, her brown hair sticking up in odd angles as she rubbed the sleep out of her dark eyes.

“Sorry,” Yori said, keeping her voice soft. “I was having trouble sleeping. Did I wake you up?”

Paku shook her head. “No worries. My alarm’s gonna go off soon anyways.” She reached to her phone, either to turn said alarm off before it started, or maybe to check for whatever notifications had arrived in the middle of the night. “Sorry you couldn’t sleep, though. You’ve been looking tired, lately.”

“Yeah, well…” Usually, Yori was well-behaved with her sleep schedule, save for whenever she had a good writing idea that refused to let her go. Even so, that wasn’t the reason that she was currently exhausted, even as her anxiety sent sparks of unnecessary energy racing through her veins. It would be easier if she could have someone to _talk_ to, but Ayane and the others didn’t know about the whole Assiah-Gehenna mess, and Shima-san had only been so helpful the day before, the honesty blunting any form of comfort she could have gotten from his words. So Yori came up with an excuse and hoped that it would work. “You know how coming back to school after a long break can be. I think I’m still recovering from all the summer writing binges I had.”

Paku giggled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard to adjust back to a schedule when you’ve been working on a completely different rhythm, isn’t it?” Her still-sleepy smile slipped a bit, and there was a somewhat serious look flickering through her eyes. “Well, if you ever need to talk to someone, Miyamoto-chan, know I’ll listen, okay? It doesn’t matter how weird it is. We roommates gotta stick together!”

For a moment, Yori considered spilling it all—the monsters she could see, the strange situation with Ayane’s crush, the danger of having such a powerful and potentially volatile demon like Amaimon around. But then she remembered the way that Shima-san had escorted her back to the girls’ dorm the night before, the service complete with a light reminder:

_We try not to let all the big, wild demon stuff get out in the open, okay? You said you read and write fantasy, so I’m sure you understand, Yori-chan. Our little secret, yeah?_

Shima was right: Yori understood the whole “we must keep the existence of the supernatural a secret” trope perfectly well, even if she thought it was a bit silly. However, what Shima hadn’t considered when he presented his train of logic was that, as a writer, Yori knew how to exploit loopholes in language like nobody’s business.

_So long as I don’t mention any of the demon bits, then there shouldn’t be a problem!_

“Well,” Yori said, “this may sound silly—” _And it absolutely does in comparison to what’s actually happening _“—but one of my friends is seeing someone. Ah, Ayane-san.” Paku, who was generally sociable and would say hi to Yori whenever they crossed paths and thus at least knew the names of her group of friends, nodded. “And, well, she seems really happy about it, so I’m glad. But the guy she’s seeing might be dangerous. And it’s not that Ayane-san can’t take care of herself, but I just don’t want her to get hurt. Especially since she’s already gone through some tough things.

“But there’s no way I can actually _prove_ what the problem is, and, even if I could, it’s Ayane-san’s decision what she does and who she sees. Like, I don’t get to decide what is and isn’t too much for her.” Yori paused a minute, another fresh thought swirling around in her head that was almost too much for her to want to admit out loud. She pushed forward and said it anyways: “I feel so _powerless._”

“Miyamoto-chan…” Paku pulled herself out of bed and crossed the room, looking unfittingly determined for someone that was still in their kitten-patterned pajamas. She easily closed the distance between them, and soon Paku had pulled Yori into a hug, the still lingering aroma of her mango-scented shampoo filling the air. “That’s not silly at all. You’re someone who cares a lot for their friends. If it were Shirou-kun or Hayabusa-senpai or even me in the same situation, you’d want to make sure they were okay, right?” Yori nodded, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of Paku’s night shirt. “I know that something like this is frustrating, but you can always talk to Fukui-senpai. While you still care about her, you’re not powerless.”

Yori nodded again, trying to form something worthwhile to say in response. She hadn’t felt quite this tongue-tied in a few years. “You’re right, Paku-san. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re friends, too, Miyamoto-chan. I’ve always got your back!” Paku squeezed Yori’s shoulders one more time before stepping back, and her cell phone buzzed back on her bed. “Whoops, I gotta help Izumo-chan get out of bed. Why don’t you go ahead and get dressed, Miyamoto-chan, and we’ll all go eat breakfast together. Sound like a plan?”

_Eating breakfast._ With everything else going on, sitting down for a meal sounded like a strange luxury. But the rest of the world didn’t stop happening just because there was a trouble, and things like eating and school and life in general would keep moving. Yori was grateful for someone like Paku who was willing to pull her back to that track, so she could keep moving, too.

“Sure thing, Paku-san,” Yori said, closing the lid on her laptop, “sounds like a plan.”

* * *

“I know you’ve explained this whole thing before, but it _still_ doesn’t make any sense.”

Whiskey didn’t blame Rin for his assessment, but she still hadn’t come up with anything new to say in response, so she let the statement hang, moving another bite of tamagoyaki to mouth via chopsticks. Though it had taken some time, she _had_ explained the (becoming increasingly stupid by the day) situation with Amaimon and Fukui-senpai the night before.

“Like, who’d even be interested in a guy like him?” Rin continued, ranting between bites of his own lunch, with the occasional grain of rice flinging back onto the table. “He’s completely out of his mind! Like, she’s hung out with him twice, right? She _has_ to have noticed that something’s off about him.”

“He is under restraints,” Whiskey said in reminder—and that little detail was the only reason that Rin hadn’t completely lost his shit as he’d learned the details. “So it’s not like he can go all out and fight. Take that away and he’s just some weirdo with a barely changing expression and a never-ending stomach.”

Rin slammed his hand to the table so hard it was a miracle that the chopsticks in them didn’t snap in half. “Exactly! So how in the world does she still wanna go out with him?!”

Whiskey shrugged. There was absolutely _no_ accounting for taste in situations like this. Fukui had already proven that ten times over.

“While this conversation is an interesting little look into your dynamic, may I ask _why the hell I’m here, too_?” Shima asked, sitting to the side of Rin in an otherwise empty Cram School classroom. He’d barely touched his own lunch, which consisted of a sandwich and a couple of other snacks that you could pick up from the school store. “You two are the miracle half-demon squad. _You two_ can actually do something about a Demon Prince of Hell. _I’m_ just a standard Exwire that doesn’t even have a proper Meister yet.”

“You should have thought about that before you decided that you were going to get involved,” Whiskey said, not bothering to hold back her glare. Shima immediately jumped in his spot and looked away, cowering under the almost unrestrained antipathy Whiskey was projecting. “Rin told me that you were the one that suggested you try to follow me. Not to mention you were acting like hot shit whenever you showed up yesterday. ‘Looks like you could use some help, Whiskey-chan,’” she said, mockingly.

“Was I wrong?”

“No, but if you’re gonna show up all smug, then you don’t get to back out whenever you get pulled into things—especially since you told Rin I was in trouble!” Whiskey knew that it had probably been for the best that she and Rin got everything out in the open, but she would have rather handled the situation on her own terms than…well, the mess that had happened instead.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Rin said, stepping up to play mediator. “We’re all here, right, and we know what’s going on. So we should all work together to make things easier.”

It was good argument, and Whiskey sighed, easing the glare she’d trapped Shima under for the time being. They saw each other every day; it wasn’t like she couldn’t exact revenge on him later if necessary. “I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate the idea, but I’m sorry you guys had to get pulled into this. It’s all stupid.” A faint sense of guilt niggled at her, since Whiskey had been the one to fail at convincing Vati _not_ to let Amaimon out in the first place.

Shima shrugged and swallowed what seemed to be a quarter of his sandwich in one go. “It’s still happening, though, yeah? So long as your dad finds it interesting or something goes wrong, there’s not much we can do about it.”

Whiskey hated that Shima was right—and Rin’s scowl showed that he shared the sentiment. “No offense, Whiskey, but your old man’s a piece of work.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey said. She’d tried not to think too much about it, but the feeling of discomfort that had been steadily growing in her gut since the beginning of the school year was only festering worse and worse by the day. _I wish that I understood what he was trying to do._ “If nothing else, he secured Uncle Amaimon yesterday, so it’s not like he’s out and running loose. And Fukui-senpai hasn’t come at me, demanding an explanation or panicking, so I can only assume that he behaved yesterday.”

But she still didn’t have to like it.

“Oh, yeah, I guess you’ve had to arrange things with Fukui-senpai,” Shima said, looking the most interested that he had the whole conversation. “Does that mean you have her number? I’m so jealous, Whiskey-chan.”

“Shima, if I thought that you’d have half a chance at catching Fukui-senpai’s attention and getting her to stop pining after Uncle Amaimon, don’t you think I would have done something about that already?”

“Whiskey-chan’s so mean!”

“It just sucks,” Rin said, poking idly at the remainder of his rice with his chopsticks. “No matter how much we complain at the clown, he’s not going to change his mind. But we obviously can’t let Amaimon do anything that’s gonna hurt that senpai or anyone else. So what in the world can we even do?”

Whiskey bit her lip, hoping that the sting of her blunted fangs would give her some timely inspiration. It didn’t. Rin was scowling at thin air, and even Shima had a frown of concentration on his expression. The silence stretched out, and Whiskey was forced to admit that there was only one answer to Rin’s question:

“The only thing we can do right now,” she said, hating the sound and taste of resignation as the words rolled off her tongue, “we wait and see what happens next.”

* * *

At her next tennis practice, Ayane recognized that she was more on top of her game than usual. She could easily track the yellow blur of motion that was the ball, even when her practice partners pulled off trick shots, and her own swings had even more force behind them than usual. Points quickly stacked up in her favor, drills felt like opportunities to get in better touch with the movement of her body, and overall Ayane just felt more fulfilled, even as her muscles burned with the oncoming exertion.

“Fukui,” Abe called as Ayane managed to flick her wrists just right to launch an excellent lob to the other side of the court. The ball sailed through the air, making Ayane realize that the color of the sky had not only become orange, but also mostly passed through that phase into a hazy sort of purple. She’d been so in the zone that she hadn’t even noticed. “While I commend you on not dragging some kōhai into your unlimited tennis works festival again, I’m gonna have to tell you to pack it up. You go much longer, and you’re gonna miss dinner—and I’ll end up missing dinner right along with you.”

“As selfless as always, Captain,” Ayane said with a touch of dryness. Abe did pass her a still cold bottle of water, though, so she couldn’t fully complain. “I just…have so much energy right now. It feels like a waste to not make use of it.”

_And anyone you could break isn’t worth your time,_ Amaimon had said. And while Ayane was still conscious of how she could potentially impact others, the idea that she didn’t need to completely hold herself back was appealing. It promised some sense of liberation from the guilt she’d been carrying around the past couple of years.

_Maybe, with Amaimon…_

“Well, I guess it’s thoughts like that that make you our ace, huh?” Abe asked, and he ruffled Ayane’s hair, despite how sweaty she must’ve been. “But if you spend all your time practicin’, that boyfriend of yours is gonna end up getting lonely.”

“Ah, we’re not really dating yet! Not officially.” She absolutely wouldn’t have minded, and Amaimon had insisted that they were on a first name basis. But without a define the relationship talk, Ayane wasn’t about to assume anything. For now, she’d be content with sharing his company. And if he came to return her feelings, then that would be another matter. “Besides, Amaimon’s busy a lot. I’m sure he has plenty of things to occupy his time even when I am busy.” They didn’t talk a lot about the rest of their lives, but Ayane still got that impression.

Abe’s expression spread out into a wide grin, and he caught Ayane in a noogie before she could protest. “You’re not making a very convincing not dating argument if you’re already calling him without honorifics.”

“He’s not from Japan, and that sort of thing is normal where he’s from!” Ayane said, unable to free herself from Abe’s headlock without potentially injuring him. “Besides, he’s the one who asked me to. Now let me go, Captain!”

“Huh? But I’m not done teasing you yet.”

“Abe-senpai, I swear to god—!”

“Yoohoo, Ayane-chan, darling! I’m here to pick you up so you actually have time to eat like a human being.” A delivery like that could have only come from Michiko, and Ayane and Abe both stopped their tussle to acknowledge the newcomer. “I know you adore tennis and it does wonders for your figure, but taking care of yourself is extra important.”

“Since when the hell did you become a self-care guru, Michiko-chan?” Ayane said under her breath, not really expecting an answer. Besides, she could tell what was up with a simple glance, anyways. Michiko had already changed out of her uniform into a frilly tank top with light-colored shorts that did an excellent job at showing off her legs. She’d also touched up on her makeup a little bit more than usual, the effect really highlighting the sparkle in her eyes.

Come to pick Ayane up from tennis practice indeed.

“Oh, you one of Fukui’s friends?” Abe asked, finally releasing Ayane from his hold. Knowing exactly what was going on, Ayane just accepted her fate of watching things unfold from the sidelines and held back a sigh. “Thanks for keeping an eye on our ace over here. I know she’s a handful, but we appreciate any help we can get.” _Sure, make me the problem child, I only went to nationals last year, no big deal._ Abe dipped his head in a short bow. “Abe Youdai. I’m the Tennis Club’s captain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Michiko said, keeping her voice light and natural. “I’m Hayabusa Michiko, Ayane-chan’s friend and roommate. We appreciate you keeping an eye out for her, too.” _Yeah, and you’re probably also ‘appreciating’_ _him in a couple other ways, too, _Ayane thought. She didn’t fault Michiko for being willing to go for it and flirt when she was interested, no; Ayane just always felt awkward as hell whenever she was caught in the middle of it.

“Well, if we don’t want to hold anyone up,” Ayane said before the conversation could leave her in the dust, “I’m going to go take a quick shower, and then we can head to dinner, okay, Michiko-chan?” It would be a dinner filled with a recounting of what strategy Michiko had put together to get Abe’s number, anyways. No reason to watch it live when she could just get the tl;dr version. “I’ll see you at the next practice, Captain.”

With a quick wave to signal her departure, Ayane slipped away and began to trot across the court and back towards the locker rooms. She was about halfway there when Abe called, “Hold up!” after her. Ayane complied, looking over her shoulder and hoping that whatever it was would be quick. Without the exertion of practice to distract her, the sweat was starting to form a sticky and uncomfortable crust on her skin. Abe cupped his hands around his mouth to better project his voice. “I meant to tell you. We got word that in two weeks, we’re gonna do some exhibition and practice matches. I signed you up for singles, since I knew you’d flay me if I didn’t.”

“Smart move,” Ayane called back. Practice was great and all, but she longed for a game with an opponent she didn’t know, a match that would bring a new level of tension aside from just improving her skills. And if she kept in the state that she was in now, then there wasn’t any doubt that she might be able to push forward to some new level of skill she’d yet to reach. “You can message me the details later, okay? I was serious about washing this sweat off.”

Plus Ayane knew better than to make Michiko wait any longer, and it only half had to do with her scoring a private conversation with Abe.

* * *

Ayane tapped her fingers against her mattress as she lied on her bed, staring at her phone. Since the screen was currently blank, there wasn’t anything much _to_ stare at, but Ayane was doing it anyways, hoping that it would get her somewhere.

_You already made the decision. Now you just gotta stop wussing out. Honestly._

Sucking in a deep breath and trying not to make too much of a fuss to catch her roommates’ (most specifically Michiko’s) attention, Ayane unlocked her screen, navigated to her contacts where she’d saved Amaimon’s number from the week before, and pressed the call button.

The ringing went on for several seconds, and Ayane couldn’t tell if it would be better or worse for her nerves if the call went to voicemail. But, eventually, the line picked up, though there was a beat of silence before Amaimon’s sleepy sounding voice said, “Hello?”

“Hi,” Ayane said, almost whispering out the greeting before she realized how quiet she was being. “Amaimon—” _Not -san, don’t add -san_ “It’s Ayane. Sorry if I interrupted you. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Don’t worry about it. I can talk.”

“Great.” Amaimon’s responses were overall minimal, but Ayane wasn’t doing much better. _Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to talk with him without completely freaking out first. _“I actually wanted to ask if you were free next week. On Thursday afternoon.” Amaimon didn’t say _no_ right away, which was reassuring in itself, but he didn’t give any other response, either. Ayane pressed on. “I know we normally meet up on the weekends, but I have a tennis exposition match that day, and, uh… I’d like it if you came and watched me.”

Given that she’d gained some notoriety in the high school tennis world, Ayane was used to people watching her while she played. Hell, she’d even admit that it felt nice to be at the center of everything, one of two stars on the stage that was the court. Ryouichi and the others would also come to cheer her on when they could, but Ayane usually let them know when a game was coming up and let them decide if they could spare the time in their schedules, which they usually would.

This is was just the first time in a while that Ayane was asking someone to specifically come and watch her.

“I know it’s not the same as what we were talking about before,” she said, letting the words slip out before she could even think to taking them back. “But tennis… It’s a place where I feel comfortable not holding myself back. And you said you wanted to see that.” Maybe she was clinging too hard onto his words, but that had stuck out at her. “So I would like it if you could come and watch, at least for a little bit. So you can see the new way I’ve learned how to fight.”

_Ah, I had to say that part out loud. Sheesh._ Though Amaimon had reminded her of it, Ayane hadn’t told him about the accident, about why she didn’t like to fight if she didn’t have to. But, even without the full context, she hoped that would be enough to catch his attention and make him interested in coming.

There was a beat of silence that Ayane almost couldn’t stand, and then Amaimon said, “Let me check something first.” The silence began anew, and Ayane could hear that a discussion was happening away from the phone without understanding any words that were spoken. Maybe he’d already had plans and she was making him rearrange them? If Ayane had been able to say anything and be heard, she would have told Amaimon not to worry, that there would be other matches he could come and see if he wanted to, that he didn’t need to change any of his plans.

Another part of her that was connected directly to her heart felt elated that he was potentially willing to rearrange his schedule for her.

There was the sound of clattering that proceeded a phone getting picked up. “Okay,” Amaimon said.

“Okay?” Ayane repeated though she had an idea of what that one word response meant. She just wanted to be certain. And sure enough—

“I’ll come and watch you play.”


End file.
